No Moon In Space
by Turcote
Summary: Spock is injured during an away mission and begins acting strangely......New Chapter up finally, and Chapter 3 redone!
1. Prologue

Prologue 

  
  


"Spock, look out!"

The Captain's voice resounded in the clearing. Spock whirled around, and immediately saw the Captain's cause for concern. Slowly advancing out of the brush, ten feet to Spock's right, was a large, wolfish creature. It's fangs were bared, and it's eyes were fixed on the Vulcan as it crept nearer. Knowing that running would not be logical, Spock began to cautiously move backwords, drawing his phaser as he went. But it was too late. Before anyone could fire, the animal sprang. It hit Spock in the chest, knocking the phaser out of his hand and slamming him down against a nearby tree.

Kirk and McCoy watched in horror as the first officer struggled to keep the beast's jaws away from his throat. Kirk fired off a high-stun phaser beam at the animal, and the blast of red hit the target. The creature snarled at the offensive phaser, but gave no other sign of being hit. Kirk didn't know what to do. he couldn't risk a higher phaser setting, the monster was too close to Spock. As he tried to think of a plan of action, an unbidden thought raced through his mind.

"And to think that we had been eager for excitement..." 


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Whoops, forgot this on prolog. Nope, Don't own Star Trek, wish I did, belongs to Paramount. 

  
  


Chapter 1

  
  


Captain James T. Kirk leaned back in his command chair and sighed. Though he wouldn't readily admit it, he was bored. The Enterprise had been patrolling the Klingon Neutral Zone for weeks without event. Kirk supposed that he should be glad that everything was peaceful, but the truth was that he night have enjoyed a small skirmish.

He looked over at the science station, and the two blue-shirted officers that were standing there. Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, arguing as usual. Kirk knew that 'Bones' McCoy had been bored lately, too. The Doctor, not having much to do in sickbay, had taken to coming up to the bridge for no apparent reason. Well, not if you counted bothering Spock to be a reason. However, seeing how quickly the science officer had picked up on the argument, Kirk suspected that he was as close to the Vulcan equivalent of boredom as he could get.

This time, the disagreement was about arranged marriages vs. marriage by choice. Kirk had no clue how they had landed on this subject, but now they were discussing it with passion.

"I don't care what you say Spock! Marriage for love will always be better that pre-arranged marriages!" The doctor's Southern drawl was full of determination as he challenged the Vulcan.

Spock's reply was spoken in his usual tone, collected and precise.

"Doctor, your statement that it will 'always be better' is both illogical and opinionated. In fact, studies have shown that unions formed by parental designation have a 33.647% higher success rate than 'love' relationships."

If he didn't know better, Kirk would've sworn that Spock memorized percentages like that just for argumental ammunition. 

Without missing a beat, the doctor changed tactics.

"So, you're saying that your parent's marriage was illogical?"

"I have said nothing to suggest that opinion, Doctor. Though improbable, I am sure that my parents marriage was the most logical course at the time."

"Logical, hah!" This having no effect on Spock, McCoy tried something else.

"What about you and T'Pring? That certainly didn't have a "33.467%" higher success rate!"

"33.647%, Doctor."

"What!?"

"You said 33.467, while actually it is 33.647."

Spock often employed this tactic while arguing with the doctor. He began to mentally calculate it's chance of success, but McCoy recognized the attempt at distraction.

"Quit trying to change the subject!" 

"Correction of an error is not necessarily an attempt to re-fashion the course for a conversation.

"You were too trying to change the subject! Don't even-" he stopped suddenly, thinking hard. Then he looked up, and glared at Spock.

"You green-blooded manipulative weasel! You were doing it again! Now answer my question!"

Spock knew the doctor would not be swayed any longer.

"What happened with T'Pring was highly improbable."

"Just like your parents then! You're just an improbable family aren't you!"

"Doctor, that is the second highly illogical statement you have made during this conversation. For a certain person, or family, to be completely improbable is-"

"Then I guess I'm just an illogical man, Mr. Spock!" McCoy declared.

Spock raised one jet-black eyebrow.

"Well, Doctor, I am forced to agree with you on that statement."

"Why you-"

Exactly what Spock was, however wasn't made known, as McCoy was interrupted by the voice of Uhura, speaking from her communications center.

"Captain, a message from StarFleet has just come in. It's about a new assignment." The Lieutenants voice was full of hope as she said this.

Kirk rose form his seat, mentally commending Uhura's good timing. He had been preparing to interrupt his two bickering officers already. He had learned that, as amusing as the verbal battles were, usually the best show on the ship, it was generally a good idea to intervene before they really went at it. But Uhura's message had successfully distracted both the blue-shirts. Both Spock and McCoy were listening with eager anticipation.

"On screen."

The face of Admiral Graph filled the main viewer. Graph, though an older man, with gray-speckled brown hair, still had a very commanding presence. 

"Captain Kirk?"

"Yes Admiral. Is this about a new assignment for the Enterprise?"

The Admiral straightened his uniform and replied,

"We need you to divert to Myro-four, to pick up a supply of oriboriali."

"What's.......oriboriali?" Kirk looked around his bridge. "Spock?"

Before Spock could answer, McCoy spoke up, pouncing on the chance to usurp Spock.

"It's a medicinal plant. Used to treat Antarian fever," McCoy replied, looking smugly at the solemn Vulcan, who merely raised an eyebrow and said, "Yes. The planet Myro-Four, has a complex soil component, which allows the oriboriali to flourish. The planet is exceedingly rich in it."

As Kirk turned back to face the screen, he heard the Doctor whisper darkly, "Just couldn't be outdone could ya?" 

The Captain ignored it, and gave his attention back to Graph, who was speaking again.

"Yes, that's correct. Our supply of it is very low right now, so we need you to retrieve some more. When you arrive, take a small landing party down to get it. Normally we would simply have it beamed up to a ship, but Myro has just recently joined the Federation, and we want to extend good public relations. So, be very courteous and agreeable."

"Don't worry Admiral."

"Very well. Graph out." The screen turned back to it's usual star-studded view. 

"Sulu, divert course to Myro-Four." The helmsman nodded his consent, and punched in the command on his panel. This taken care of, Kirk turned to his first officer.

"What do we know about this planet, besides the oriboriali?" 

Spock replied immediately, giving his usual encyclopedia-response.

"Class-M planet, population 3.12 billion. Larger that Earth, with much more flora. Unlike Earth, they did not delight in stripping the planet of it's natural resources."

At this, McCoy interjected. "Hey! People on Earth stopped cutting down rainforest trees a long time ago!"

Without even a glance at the Doctor, Spock continued.

"Because it joined with the Federation only recently, no additional data is known."

Kirk nodded, absorbing the information. 

"How long until we arrive?"

"Approximately 1 day, sir."

"Oh?" The Doctor's eyes glinted. "Not '1.11 days'?"

If Spock hadn't been a Vulcan, he might have sighed in exasperation. Even so, he allowed himself a short out take of breath, barely noticeable.

"1.16 days, actually. Doctor, I am at a loss. You disapprove when I give exact figures, yet you react similarly when I do not."

"Well Spock, you see...."

Kirk sighed. The sooner they got to Myro-Four, the better.

  
  



	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own Star Trek. *sob* 'Cause if I did, I would have lots of money, and would spend my time doing better things than writing fanfiction......

  
  
  
  


Chapter 2

  
  


The 1.16 days passed without much event. Spock and McCoy had finally abated, leaving the bridge strangely silent for the rest of the journey. Finally they arrived at the planet. Once the ship was set in orbit around the planet, Kirk contacted the surface. A young man answered the hail. Humanoid, he looked completely normal, except for two things. He had deep violet eyes, and his hair was a shock of sunflower yellow.

"Enterprise? Is that you?" He spoke with an other-worldly accent that Kirk had never heard before. 

"Yes, this is the Enterprise. I'm Captain James T. Kirk. Are you ready for us to beam down?"

"Oh yes. We're sending the beam-down coordinates to you right now. I will be waiting for you."

"Thank you. I'll be seeing you shortly. Kirk out." He turned to face Lt. Uhura. "Have you got the coordinates?"

"Yes sir. I'll send them down to the transporter room."

"Good." The Captain rose, and began to make his way to the turbolift. As he did this, he called over his shoulder.

"Spock, Bones, you're with me." They followed, and the three officers made their way to the transporter room.

  
  


People sometimes wondered why Kirk often chose to take his Chief Medical Officer with him on landing parties. The Captain, after much experience, had discovered that it was usually beneficial to have McCoy with him. When faced with a tough decision, Kirk looked to him and Spock for advice. between Spock's infallible logic, and McCoy's emotional idiosyncracies, Kirk could find a useful medium. So, Kirk felt prepared as he entered the transporter room with his two friends.

Upon entering, McCoy and Spock immediately stepped up on the transporter pad, each with their own respective tricorders, both medical and science. The Captain, however, went over to the young man at the console.

"Lt. Kyle? What are you doing here?"

"Well, Mr. Scott wasn't feeling too good, so I took transporter duty for today."

"Hmm. Well, tell him I hope he gets better soon."

Kirk went over to the pad and looked at the Doctor. When Lt. Kyle had spoken of Scotty, McCoy had uttered a stifled burst of laughter. 

"What is it Bones? Do you know something about Scotty's condition?"

The Doctor grinned mischievously.

"Yah, he came into Sickbay this morning. Apparently, yesterday was the birthday of one of his engineers." McCoy's grin widened. "I heard it was quite a party."

Kirk hastily stifled the grin that was spreading across his own face. Spock looked politely puzzled, and seemed about to comment, but Kirk gave Kyle the order, and the Vulcan's words were caught up in the sparkle of gold as they beamed down.

  
  


They reformed in a grassy area, near some dense woods. They had hardly waited a moment when the same man they had contacted approached them, followed by two more Myroians. 

"Greetings, Captain," he said, smiling. "We're very pleased to meet you. My name is Ikal, and this is Eron and Kor." The other two Myroians, both with silver eyes and dark red hair, nodded and smiled.

"This is Dr. McCoy, and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock." Now that introductions were taken care of, it was time to get down to business.

"Do you have the oriboriali ready?"

"Yes, it's right over there, ready for beam up."

Ikal pointed at six containers near the edge of the forest. Kirk started off towards them, but stopped when Ikal spoke again.

"Would you like to see them wild? I mean, in the woods, before they're harvested?"

Kirk looked at his officers. McCoy shrugged in a 'Why not?' gesture. Kirk remembered the Admiral's words about public relations. 

"Of course we would, thank you."

The Myroians beamed, and began leading them into the woods, talking as they went.

"Our planet contains a variety of different plant species, from oriboriali to......"

The three officers and the three Myroians walked for quite a while through the woods. Spock listened to the native's descriptions while he worked his tricorder. There were many plants here that he had never seen before. It was all very fascinating. 

Eventually they came to a clearing. Eron pointed out a sprig of oriboriali. Spock began to bend down to study it, but suddenly he stiffened. he had heard something. He strained his Vulcan hearing, listening intently. The Captain saw, and knew what the Vulcan was doing. He signaled the others to be quiet, and whispered, 

"What is it Spock?"

The sounds were barely audible, even to Spock's sensitive ears. 

"I believe there is something nearby, in the brush." He looked at the Captain. "I am not sure what it is.

The Myroians looked apprehensive.

"Animals live in these woods. Perhaps we should leave," Ikal whispered. Eron and Kol nodded. They started to leave, but suddenly, Kirk shouted,

"Spock! Look out........." 

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 3

Yeah, redone chapter! I hope you all approve!

**Chapter Three**

Spock struggled against the animal with only one clear objective: stay alive. He couldn't focus on anything else but that--to survive this second, and then the next. There was just too much else to process; the claws ripping into his shoulders, the throbbing in his head, the hot breath on his face, the blood trickling past his eye. He curled his fingers into the thick fur of the creature's neck and braced his arms, straining to keep the long milky fangs away from his throat.

They were at a standstill now, but Spock did not know how long he would be able to hold out.

Suddenly, the creature jerked backwards, then lunged forward. Spock felt the back of his head crack against the tree trunk as his neck whiplashed, and he almost passed out from the sudden blinding pain. His vision began to swirl and he was finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts. There wasn't much time left--it was now or never.

Shaking with the effort, Spock summoned up his remaining strength and shoved. The creature tumbled off him, but not before it clamped its jaws around his wrist. The sudden agony of it made him gasp, but he managed to clutch the creature's snout with his other hand in a vain attempt to pry it open. He knew it was useless, he was too weak, and everything was getting dim, and there was nothing he could do…

A brilliant flash of red sliced through his haze. Phaser fire. Spock had almost forgotten that the other two officers were there, but now the creature released its hold on him and turned instead toward them. It began to advance, snarling its irritation, when another blast from the Captain's phaser sent it loping back into the cover of the forest.

Spock leaned back against the tree, gasping. Blood, too much blood, was flowing down his arm, seeping into the sleeve of his uniform and staining it a murky turquoise. Every movement, every breath was an agony and he tried to stay as motionless as possible.

He could hear Kirk yelling something into his communicator, but it seemed distant, out of focus. He caught "Doesn't matter--them out of here--hurry, damnit!" but everything else was unintelligibly blurred.

There was a whirring sound not far from his ear. He opened his eyes and looked into the worried face of Dr. McCoy. No, not worried. Terrified. But he spoke in a manner that belied his expression, maintaining a reassuring monologue as he ran his medical tricorder.

"It's gonna be okay, so don't you worry, you're gonna be fine, just stay with me, Spock…"

Spock could feel himself fading, slipping away, He wanted to speak, to say something, _anything_.

"McCoy…I-"

He coughed, tasted something metallic--blood. Everything was going so dark, he couldn't even see the doctor's face anymore, could only hear his voice telling his to hold on, please hold on, and then that faded away until there was nothing but the pain and the weak beating of his heart and then…nothing at all.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Star Trek. Not for lack of trying though...

  
  


Sorry I took so long to update! But here is this chapter, transferred from my blue spiral notebook to your screen.

  
  


Spock was engaged in a mental battle, shoving aside the thick blanket of unconsciousness that he was submerged in. Finally, he succeeded. He was awake, but not fully aware. What had happened? Spock was thinking hard, trying to remember. The memories came slowly, arriving in half-formed thoughts.

Eventually, he was able to piece them together. the oriboriali....Myro....the woods....that horrendous beast....the searing pain in his wrist.... "Be careful, Captain." that was the last conscious thing he remembered. After that, it was a mix of fog and feverish dreams.

Now fully aware, Spock deduced that he must be in Sickbay. Yes, now that he was listening, he could hear the hum of the medical machinery. He opened his eyes, but the sudden intrusion of light forced him to close them again. He ran a mental check over his injuries. When he had awoken, he had automatically begun to control the pain, but his wrist still throbbed menacingly, sending blots of agony up his arm. It took all his Vulcan discipline to ignore it. Besides that, his other wounds were causing only slight discomfort.

That taken care of, Spock forced his eyes open again, and blinked furiously until they adjusted. He started to sit up, but a firm hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was gently pushed back down. The hand was soon accompanied by a voice.

"Don't you even think about sitting up!"

This snappish order was followed by a more gentle-toned pronouncement. 

"Well, it's about time you came around. Good to see you up."

Dr. McCoy removed his hand, straightened up, and walked over to the nearest communication panel. He shot one last look at the Vulcan, making sure that his patient wasn't trying to get up, then activated the panel.

"McCoy to bridge."

The Captain answered, his voice half anxious, half exasperated.

"Yes, Bones? Now can I come down?"

"Sure. He just woke up."

"I'll be there shortly. Kirk out."

McCoy closed the channel and turned back to Spock, who was slightly puzzled.

"Doctor, the Captain seemed to come to place emphasis on if he could come down 'now' which implies that there was a previous occasion. Is this so?"

Dr. McCoy came back toward Spock, studying the sensors on the side of his bed.

"Well," he explained, "He came into Sickbay earlier, while I was still trying to patch you up. I don't like distractions while I'm working, so I told him to bug off."

Spock nodded, deciding it wiser not to investigate the meaning of 'bug off.' He moved on to more important matters.

"Has the oriboriali been collected?"

"Yeah, Jim had it beamed aboard. It took him awhile to find the Myroians and calm them down though. Apparently, they were terrified that, since a Star Fleet officer had been injured, possibly fatally, on their planet, that they would be kicked out of the Federation."

"I assume that the Captain was able to convince them otherwise?"

"Yes, so relationships with Myro are still good."

The ever inquisitive science officer started to ask for more information, but McCoy cut him off.

"No. I shouldn't have even answered those other questions. You're on sick leave, and you are not to be worrying about it." 

"As I have told you many times Doctor, Vulcans do not worry. You often seen unable to retain that piece of information. Perhaps you are experiencing recollection deprivation."

McCoy opened his mouth to deliver what would have been a scathing retort, but he was interrupted when Captain Kirk walked in. The Captain headed straight for Spock. Even the grin on his face could not hide the touch of concern in his voice as he said,

"Glad to see you up Spock. How are you feeling?"

Choosing to ignore the improper phrasing of the question, (A Vulcan would not admit to 'feeling'), Spock replied with a simple,

"I am fine." He made no comment on his aching wrist, which was still shooting jets of pain up his arm.

Kirk's smile faded into a puzzled frown, as though he did not completely believe his first officer. This became apparent when he asked, in a slightly dubious tone,

"Then why aren't you sitting up?"

Spock did not answer, he merely looked at McCoy.

"Bones?" Kirk questioned, following the Vulcan's gaze. "Can he get up?"

The Doctor scowled.

"No he can't." He pointed a menacing finger at his patient. "Because you're not fine. You were out way longer than you should have been, and you didn't go into healing trance, which is what I want you to do. Will you need a sedative?"

That statement form McCoy puzzled Spock. He should have slipped into the trance automatically. If necessary, he could induce it himself. He told this to the Doctor, who nodded and said,

"Good. Induce it then. I'll be here to bring you out of it."

Beginning the first step of the healing process, Spock relaxed his body and started breathing deeply. Placing two fingers to his temple, he cleared his mind, blocking out any other thoughts. Within moments he was in deep trance, deaf to the world.

  
  
  
  


Okay, changed my mind. This is going to be the end of this chapter. Please review, and thanx to all the people who did! When I own Star Trek, I will cast all my reviewers into the episodes!! Especially thanks to Bug the Hungarian Horntail, who posts multiple reviews!!!! :) :) 


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Star Trek is not mine. Nope. Nada. Negative. 

  
  
  
  


After making sure that Spock had successfully entered the healing trance, Dr. mcCoy ushered Kirk into his office. As soon as they were seated, Kirk cut to the chase.

"So, what's Spock's condition?"

McCoy sighed tiredly. He had barely left Spock's side since they had beamed up, and he was exhausted. Even so, he launched ito the answer to the Captain's question.

"Well, it's not great, but I think he'll be all right. I've set his ribs, and patched up all those cuts and gashes. He lost a lot of blood. We're lucky that we had enough T-negative blood in stock. his ankle isn't fully healed, but the trance should help it start to knit. I treated his concussion, and there's no lasting damage from that." McCoy stopped, although he wasn't finished yet. He hated giving the bad side of a report and was always reluctant to do so. However, Kirk knew this, and prodded the doctor along.

"And...?" he questioned softly.

McCoy sighed again. Kirk knew him too well. He got up, and started pacing, as he often did when he had a lot on his mind.

"Well, the main problem is that wrist of his. I'm starting to think that beast injected him with some kind of poison or virus. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to get that bite to stop bleeding. Then, while he was unconscious, his temperature suddenly shot up, for no apparent reason, and he almost started convulsing at one point. I gave him medicine to prevent any seizures, but his temperature is still higher than normal.

"Kirk nodded. He had thought Spock's eyes had seemed slightly glazed.

"Pain level?"

"Nearly intolerable, but I couldn't risk giving him any serious pain medicine, not in his weakened state. The pain level when down a bit when he awoke though, he was probably controlling it, but even so, it was still very high."

McCoy rubbed his eyes sleepily. This action didn't go unnoticed. Kirk rose, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Bones, get some rest. Spock will be in healing trance for awhile, and you won't be any help to him if you're too tired to think."

McCoy chuckled slightly at this ironic twist. Normally it was he who had to convince Kirk to 'get some rest'. He was too tired to argue, so he sat down on his small office couch.

"Goodnight, Bones. I've got to get back to the bridge. Everyone's waiting for an update on our first officer. I'll tell Nurse Chapel to signal you when he comes out of trance." Kirk lowered the lights, and left.

McCoy stretched out on the couch, and fell almost immediately into welcome slumber.

  
  
  
  


I cant decide whether or not to make this the end of the chapter. i have more written, but I don't know if I should add it on to this chapter or start a new one. Please give your opinion in the review that you're going to give. Right? You are going to review, right??? 


	7. Chapter 6

Dis: No, I really do own Star Trek. Really, I do! *Hears voice in back of mind* No, you don't own Star Trek. Yes I do! Don't listen to my mind!!! AGGHH!

  
  


Chapter 6

  
  


The Doctor was brought to an abrupt awakening a while later, when he rolled over and fell of the couch. He landed in an undignified heap on the floor. Cursing under his breath, he got up, glancing at the chrono on his desk. He was surprised to see that he'd been asleep for a good five hours, at least. He supposed that Christine had taken care of Sickbay during his nap. He'd have to remember to thank her later.

"Well," McCoy thought as he stretched and yawned, "It's probably good that I woke up now. Spock'll be up any time now." As though activated by the physician's thoughts, his desk communicator whistled. He answered it, and tried to flatten out his sleep-tousled hair.

The voice of Nurse Christine Chapel came from the speaker.

"Doctor McCoy?"

"I'm here. Is it Spock?"

"Yes sir. He's starting to come out of his trance."

"I'll be there in just a second. McCoy out."

He closed the link and headed out of his office with a quickened pace. He began mentally willing himself to do what he knew was needed. He hated what he had to do to bring Spock out of his healing trance, but it had to be done.

McCoy entered Spock's ward just as the Vulcan sat bolt-upright, his eyes unfocused. McCoy sprinted over to Spock's side, drew back his arm, and slapped the Vulcan harshly across his face. Spock didn't even flinch. Instead, he spoke one word, in a voice as cold and hard as steel,

"Harder."

McCoy summoned up all his strength and slapped Spock again. He started to raise his arm again, but Spock's hand shot out and seized the Doctor's wrist in painful grip. But he released his hold after a moment and said, in a slightly raspy voice,

"That will be sufficient. Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem," McCoy said grimly, rubbing his wrist. "All you did was nearly break my hand. Well, at least that means some of that accursed Vulcan strength of yours has returned. You were certainly out for long enough." 

Spock spoke again, his voice still sounding scratchy, no doubt a result of being unconscious for so long.

"I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused you, Doctor. I will attempt to be more gentle in the future. However-" Spock raised an eyebrow, "Judging by your current state of dishevel, I would surmise that you have also been 'out for long enough."

McCoy glared at the Vulcan, then down at his rumpled uniform. Choosing not to retort, he simply said,

"Oh, hush. I'll go get you some water for your throat." He walked off toward the replicator, grumbling under his breath, in a low voice,

"And they say that Vulcans have no sense of humor."

The physician's voice was not low enough, however, to escape the sensitivity of Vulcan ears.

" 'They' would be correct Doctor. Humor is a concept that is not relevant to us."

McCoy returned to Spock's bedside, handing him the glass.

"Oh, just drink your water."

Spock drank it, thankful for the chance to alleviate his dry throat. Aside from that, his healing trance had done him immense good. Though some believed that Vulcan healing trances were mystic rituals, Spock knew that they worked simply to focus the body's natural immunities.

After finishing the water, Spock set the glass down, and turned back to the Doctor.

"I assume that the Captain will be here shortly?"

"Yeah, Christine's contacting him right now." McCoy turned and began examining the sensors on Spock's bed. Spock began to ask about his current condition, but McCoy had anticipated it, and started explaining even before Spock could get the question out.

"Your ribs are fine, but they'll be pretty sore for a while. The same goes for that ankle injury."

Spock nodded his consent, and McCoy continued,

"I had thought that wrist wound of yours may have been infected, but all our scans still haven't picked anything up. Even so, I still plan to keep monitoring it."

Spock nodded again, then asked,

"When will I be able to return to duty?"

"Yes Bones, when?" The Captain had entered Sickbay and overheard Spock's question.

Dr. McCoy scowled, switching into his 'I'm the Doctor I make the decisions' mode. He barked,

"When I decide he's fit for it, and not a moment before!"

"Doctor, you said that my injuries-"

"-Were mostly healed, yes. However-" McCoy declared, "Just because the scans didn't pick up any poison doesn't mean that there isn't any."

"So..." Kirk prompted, still trying to get an answer, "How long?"

"At least a couple of days."

Kirk looked relieved, and Spock's concerns were similarly eased. He had been concerned that the over-protective Doctor would want to hold him for an extreme period of time. McCoy saw the look on the Captain's face and snorted.

"Don't get too excited, now. After that, Mr. Spock, you are going to be on sick leave."

Kirk's look of relief faded. McCoy gave him a wry smile.

"Yes, sick leave. You're still very weak, and you are not to be dong anything strenuous. Do whatever you like, write poetry for all I care, but so help me, if I find you up on the Bridge-"

"I think he gets the picture, Bones." Kirk interrupted. Deciding it best to change the subject, Spock asked,

"Captain, were you able to find any information about the nature of the creature that attacked me?"

Kirk shook his head grimly.

"No. Our computer banks don't have anything on it. We didn't have enough time to question the Myroians either, we were already off schedule. We had to leave for Starbase 7 to deliver the oriboriali. We're on our way there now."

"Spock...I was wondering..." McCoy spoke cautiously, as though treading on dangerous grounds, "You didn't happen to...you know, pick up anything from that beast, did you?"

Spock knew what they Doctor was getting at. Vulcan telepathic powers were not a commonly-discussed topic, and McCoy didn't want to enter into a taboo subject.

Spock was silent. He hadn't had time to give it much thought, but now he replayed the memory in his head. The Vulcan's concentration was abruptly interrupted however, by a sudden, flaring pain in his wrist. He had been trying to bring up a mental picture of the animal, when the unexpected agony had occurred. Spock managed to keep from gasping in shock, and the pain soon faded to a dull throb. Spock ignored it as best he could, and continued thinking. The moment the creature had made contact with him...yes...Spock had briefly touched it's mind. He spoke to the others.

"It was not fully sentient. However..." He trailed off, trying to find the correct words.

"There was a glimmer of intelligence, and self-awareness. A shadow almost, as though it had at one time been sentient. That was all I was able to sense, being, at the time, more concentrated on staying conscious. 

The three officers were silent for a time. Eventually, Dr. McCoy spoke up, in a low voice,

"Quite....fascinating."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been way busy. I really should work on my LOTR story, but my Spock muse is much stronger than my Legolas muse right now. *Image of Spock standing victoriously by a nerve-pinched Legolas* 

Anyways!

I don't think this chapter was as good as the others. You might be thinking, "Where's the action? The drama?" All in good time, it will come back, don't worry. Oh, and by the way, what is a beta reader? 

Review please! 


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own a collection of Star Trek episodes, two Legolas posters, one extremely messy room, a pet sheltie named Bean, and the purple wooden spork that I made in my Industrial Technology class at school. I do not however, own the concept of Star Trek, or any of the characters involved.

  
  


Sorry it took me so long to update! My life is quite hectic right now. My grandmother is terminally ill, and my grandfather has just been moved into a nursing home. Add to that all my homework (Such as the Algebra test I have to take tomorrow that I should really be studying for right now, but typing my story is so much more fun!) I prefer to procrastinate by sitting and typing while listening to my Chicago soundtrack. (LOVE that CD!) 

Boothh reeeacched fooooooor theeeeee GUUUUUUUNNNN!!!!!

I cant keep my self from singing along!

  
  


My little brother Seth says hi. He's 10, and I've been slowly converting him into a Trekkie. Hes so wonderful! One time, when he looked at my shelf full of S.T. books, he said " Will you read me one of those sometime?' I asked him if he wanted to hear my S.T. story (this one) and he agreed, and i read it while he listened intently. When I was done, he said "Wow Rachel, you're such a good writer! I love ALL your stories!" I was just like "Awwww....I love you so much Seth!" Isnt that great? I love recruiting new people to the Trek cause!

  
  


Okay, now onto the story, and enough of my ramblings. (Me? Ramble? Perish the thought!" 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter Seven

  
  


Spock remained in Sickbay for the next few days, growing steadily stronger. His ribs were fully healed, though slightly sore. His ankle had also improved; he was now able to walk without having to resort to limping. His wrist however, was still wrapped in a sterilized bandage, as it had taken to sporadic bursts of reopening, causing slight bleeding.

Spock spent most of his time in Sickbay meditating, excepting the rare occasions that he was able to gain access to a computer console. 

Finally Doctor McCoy released him, but not without a stern lecture.

"Remember, nothing strenuous for a while. Don't overburden yourself. You'll be coming back here every day for a checkup, but don't hesitate to come earlier if you start experiencing any ill effect, any at all, or if your wrist starts bleeding badly. Don't start your little stubborn Vulcan trick. And you're to be getting a humanly decent amount of sleep at least every other night, ya got that? If I find out that you're playing Sleepless Wonder I'll have you in here and sedated so fast it'll make your ears turn round!"

Spock listened patiently to the Doctor's speech, knowing better than to interrupt. He merely nodded. McCoy also nodded and the physician's gesture was intensified by a smile-concealing scowl as he said,

"Good. Now scram. I've got things to do, you know." With that, McCoy promptly turned away and began rummaging through a hypo-storage container. 

Spock left Sickbay, musing about the irrationalities of humans. He stopped however, as soon as he entered the ship corridor, the Sickbay doors closing with a soft "Shfft" noise behind him. 

Spock wasn't used to having a lot of leisure time, normally preferring to stay on the bridge. Now that he was presented with a large amount of it, the Vulcan was unsure of what to do with it. After a moment's contemplation, Spock made his decision, and headed off to his quarters to pick up his harp.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hikaru Sulu sat motionless, surveying his opponent through narrowed eyes. He clenched his fist, realizing that there was no way out. The young Enterprise helmsman had been goaded on by a challenge, an intense struggle had ensued, and now here he was. Sulu had no choice but to admit defeat.

He reached his hand out over the chessboard and tipped over his king.

His opponent grinned triumphantly and said, in a joyous tone,

"Vell, vhat did you expect? Chess vas a Russian inwention after all." 

Sulu sighed and leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up on another nearby chair. There were plenty of these in the near-empty rec-room that they were in. The only other occupants were a small group of people who were conversing amongst themselves. Sulu gave his friend a scrutinizing gaze and declared,

"Well, I think there's a different reason for your sudden winning streak, Pavel." His tenor voice was filled with jest.

"Oh? And vhat is that?"

"You cheat." 

The young Russian adopted a look of mock offense.

"I vould never..." 

The two friends continued with their good-natured bantering for a time, as they reset the board. After a while, Sulu voiced a question that had been concerning him for the last few days.

"Pav, do you know what exactly happened to Mr. Spock?"

Sulu had of course, heard the rumors. The ship's grapevine was active as ever, but Hikaru had learned not to put too much faith in what the gossipers said. 

Chekov replaced the last rook on the board, then looked up.

"Vell, my friend Cheri is a nurse here, and she said that he had been attacked on Myro, but is doing vell, and vill be released soon."

Sulu already knew that much, it was pretty common knowledge. So, he questioned Chekov further. 

"What attacked him? Planet local?"

Chekov shook his head.

"No, Cheri said that she heard Dr. McCoy say that it vas a volf of some kind. But that it vas more like a...a monster volf, of sorts."

Chekov stopped, and Sulu thought he saw a slight shiver run through the Russian's body.

"What's wrong?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, it's nothing," Chekov assured him. "It just reminded me of the stories my grandfather used to tell me at bedtime." He gave a short laugh. "I vas never able to sleep properly vhen Grandpa vas in a horror-story mode." He smiled slightly at the nostalgic memory.

Sulu, having his own memories of camp-fire tales asked,

"What kind of stories did he tell?"

"He told tales of men who, under the spell of a full moon, vould turn into a volf, seeking out blood. I vas terrified by that idea vhen I vas a child." He shivered slightly again, remembering his youthful fear.

"You know, verevolves."

  
  


(A/N: Okay, so technically, Chekov-speech of werewolves would be verevolwes, but that just looked too weird. It's fun to try and pronounce though!)

  
  
  
  


At that moment the officer's discussion was halted, when the subject of their conversation walked into the rec-room. To their surprise, Spock looked none too worse for wear, excepting the bandage on his wrist, and slightly pale complexion. Cradled in the Vulcan's arms was an elegant harp. Sulu knew that it was a family heirloom of Spock's and that the first officer could play it with exceptional talent.

Spock strode over to a seat not far from where Sulu and Chekov were seated. He gave them a courteous nod and said, in his usual precise, collected tone,

"Greetings Lieutenant, Ensign."

Sulu was pleased at the Commander's apparent good health. After his conversation with Chekov, he had half-way been expecting Spock to emerge for Sickbay bearing fangs, or else with claws forming on his hands. Sulu mentally chided himself for being so foolish, but couldn't stop the grin that spread rapidly over is face as he said,

"Good to see that you're out of Sickbay, Mr. Spock."

"It is indeed," Spock answered. Then, he gestured at his harp and asked,

"Do you mind if I play?"

"No, not at all," Sulu replied. 

Without further ado, Spock sat, propped the harp up on his lap and began to play. The melodious notes drifted their way around the room, until the place was filled with the sound. The small group of people stopped talking, looked up, and listened intently. After a while, Spock switched into a faster, livelier melody, and the helmsman watched as Spock's hand flitted rapidly across the strings with incredible grace. It seemed to him that Spock was favoring his bandaged wrist, as though cautious not to bump or twist it.

Spock finished, and everyone applauded. He gave a gracious nod, laying the instrument carefully on the seat beside him. It was then that Sulu noticed that the bandage on the Vulcan's wrist had developed a dark green patch of blood that rapidly spreading. Alarmed, he quickly told Spock, who looked down with surveying interest at his injury.

"My playing must have jarred the wound, causing it reopen," he informed them, clamping a hand vice-like over it. "I will have to abstain such activities in the near future. Good day, gentlemen. I believe I shall retire to my quarters." 

"But," Chekov said, concerned, "shouldn't you get that checked over in Sickbay?"

Something happened then that neither Sulu or Chekov had ever witnessed before, or could have ever predicted happening.

Spock's dark eyes flashed dangerously, as though a sudden fire had been kindled behind them. He glared at them as though in anger.

"I believe, Ensign," he snapped at him, "that I am quite capable of knowing when I need to seek medical attention, and that it is no business of yours!" 

With that, Spock scooped up his harp and strode out of the rec-room, leaving Sulu and Chekov to stare at each other in shock.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


You like? Did I do okay on Chekov's accent? I know that on a couple, such as 'never', i didnt change the v, because that would have looked too strange. See, I noticed that only people I've had in the last few chapters are Kirk, Spock and McCoy. So, I decided to let Sulu and Chekov out of their cages and let them run around a bit. The mental cages in my mind that is. :) But, I personally don't think that this chapter is one of my best.

  
  


Now, for a Fool First: I am going to begin replying to my reviews!! I've never done this before, (Duh, thats why it's a First.) So i hope its okay. Since some of you (wonderful, amazing reviewing people that you are) reviewed more than once, these replies are a collective for all of them. 

  
  
  
  


Liz: Yes, you are a wonderful cousin! Thanx for reading this even though I know you're not a big Trekkie.

  
  


Sean: You wont let me do your makeup? *sob* Well, glad that you liked my story!

  
  


My Scheming Mind: Thanks for the error-corrections! Doesnt everyone have a few mental chicks? Well, not me, seeing as how Im a girl, but you know what I mean....right? Anyway, im happy that you like my story!

  
  


Lehne: Spock is my favorite character too, so don't worry, i wont be killing him off any time soon. (Thats what redshirts are for!)

  
  


Aunt Cheri: Glad that you feel that way! Sorry I was such a pain when i was little. Thanks for taking time to read my story, I know you're really busy!

  
  


Bug: It's been fun IMing with you! Thanks for some of the spelling tips you gave me in your first review!

  
  


Mzsnaz: Nothing's boding too well for Spock lately is it?

  
  


Kniga: Glad you like it! Heres the new chapter!

  
  


lottie: Spock is fun to torture isnt he? Isnt it strange how we like to torture out favorite characters?

  
  


Frogorn: Okay, so maybe I didnt update soon, but at least I've updated now!

  
  


Wydinal Sheergale: First off, I like your name, its quite fascinating. And yes, poor Spock...he so often seems to be subject to much distress.....

  
  


mimi6: Me glad that you like. Arent cliffhangers fun?

  
  


Autism Mom: I do try to keep my readers interested. Im glad that you like it!

  
  
  
  


As always, I love and live for reviews. They are white-chili for the writers soul. (My mom makes GREAT white chili!)

  
  


I wrote this thing for school called "RSK-a scientific observation" RSK stands for Red-Shirt Karma. Its about the circumstances that cause red-shirt death. Do you think that I should post it? Its pretty short, but if i publish here on good ol' FanFic.net, I might add some more to it. Also, Id like to write a humorous ficlet, either Star Trek or LOTR. (Im thinking maybe young Merry and Pippin?) But my PlotEnator-2000 (copyrighted) is currently on the fritz. Any ideas? If so, add it in a review, or email me. (If you E me, put something about FF.net in the subject so that i know it's not junk!)

  
  



	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Yo no tener Star Trek. Demasiado malo. Es no eso triste? Si, el es mucho triste.....te frio es rico!!

  


Translation (I think this is correct) I do not have Star Trek. Too bad. Isn't that sad? Yes, it is very sad....iced tea is tasty!! (hey, what can i say, I like iced tea)

  


As you can see, I was very bored in Spanish that day.

  


Speaking of school and Spanish, SCHOOL WAS CANCELED TODAY HERE IN HANNIBAL MISSOURI!!! YYYYAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Not that that means anything to you people out there, but well, IM excited.

  


Sorry that, once again, it took me so long to update! It will prolly take me awhile to get the next chappie up too. Theres a lot of stuff in the story plot that I have to decide and work out. I will do the best I can though!

  


Chapter Eight

  


Doctor McCoy entered the Mess Hall and discovered that the Captain was already there, a PADD in one hand, poking miserably at the remains of a salad. The Doctor ordered a plate of food from the replicator, sat down across from Kirk and commented,

"Well, I'm pleased to see you're keeping to that diet I prescribed you." 

The Captain, who was obviously not pleased about it, replied with a grunt. Still trying to get a conversation going, McCoy gestured at the PADD.

"What's that ya got there?"

Kirk glanced up and looked at the Doctor's plate, which appeared to be covered in nothing more than a thick mound of syrup, and raised an eyebrow. 

"I might ask you the same thing, Bones."

McCoy speared a fork-full of food and brandished it at Kirk.

"What's wrong with pancakes?" he asked defensively.

"Nothing, but...for dinner?"

The Doctor shrugged and tore into his meal. Kirk rolled his eyes at the physician's antics, then held up the PADD and started his answer to McCoy's original question.

"Now that the oriboriali has been delivered, they can control that outbreak on Rigel IV. So, this is our new mission. Have you heard of that new star base that's being built by the Romulan Neutral Zone?" 

McCoy nodded through a mouthful of pancake and the Captain continued.

"Well, its progress is being hindered by a nearby planet. This planet isn't part of the Federation and apparently it doesn't wanted any bases, or ships for that matter, anywhere near it. However, they have agreed to discuss a peace treaty so that's where we're headed. Unfortunately, there's still one other problem." 

"Hm?" McCoy questioned, still devouring his food. 

Kirk sighed.

"For the life of me, I can't figure out how to pronounce the name of the planet. Here-" he slid the PADD over to McCoy. "You try."

McCoy picked it up and glanced over the information. He looked at the name and snorted.

"How do you expect me to know? I'm a doctor, not a walking dictionary!" Then, McCoy stood up slightly and looked around the crowded Mess Hall.

"Speaking of walking dictionaries, have you seen Spock?"

Kirk shook his head and the Doctor sat back down, looked again at the strange term and gave yet another derisive snort.

"Where's a Vulcan when you need one?"

At that moment, through pure coincidence, the Mess Hall doors opened, admitting Spock into the room, where he immediately headed toward the replicator. A grin spread across McCoy's face.

"Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear, pointed ears and all! Hey Spock!" 

At McCoy's exclamation, Spock spun around and looked up sharply from where he had entered his order into the replicator. When he saw who had shouted, Spock seemed to almost visibly relax. He gave a curt nod to show that he had heard, then turned back to face the food outlet.

Kirk looked at McCoy, puzzled.

"Is it just me, or does Spock seem a bit...jumpy?"

McCoy shook his head. 

"Spock? Nervous? Nah, I probably just startled him when I shouted."

The two officers watched their Vulcan friend pick up his tray and walk over to sit down beside the Captain who said,

"Good evening Spock. You're just the man we've been looking for."

The Vulcan's eyebrow quirked upward.

"Really?" Might I inquire as to why?"

"Here." Kirk handed the PADD to his first officer. "This is our new mission. Have you ever heard of this place before."

Spock skimmed through the information, probably reading, McCoy thought, three times faster than a human.

"Yes," he said finally, "I have indeed heard of the planet Kz'tyl." He pronounced it 'Kah-zaht-tee-ul,' clipping the 't'. "This mission should prove interesting." 

"No doubt about that," Kirk agreed, taking the PADD back from Spock. Spock nodded then began to eat his soup, deciding not to comment on the questionable-looking mass on Dr. McCoy's plate.

The three officers sat in silence for a time, the amount of pancake on McCoy's plate and the amount of soup in Spock's bowl both rapidly decreasing. Eventually, McCoy looked up and asked,

"So Spock, has your wrist been all right? Bleeding or anything?"

Spock turned his arm to show the protective physician his clean bandage. 

"It's quite all right, Doctor. I would have informed you had it been otherwise."

That satisfied McCoy, and he started to dig back into his pancakes, but Kirk glanced over at Spock's bowl and the remains of the soup.

"What kind of soup is that Spock? Doesn't look like plomeek."

Spock looked down and stared at the bowl as though he had never seen it before, even though he had been steadily been eating its contents only a few moments earlier. Like Kirk, McCoy now also looked into the bowl.

"Looks like...beef stew to me! Spock?" 

Spock was still staring at his meal with something akin to shock in his eyes.

"Beef?" Spock's already pale complexion started to take on a sickly green hue. "I ate meat?"

Sensing the Vulcan's obvious distress, (as much as Spock tried to hide it) Kirk attempted to soften the blow.

"It must have been a replicator malfunction. What did you order?"

Spock's eyes, the only part of him that revealed any emotions, filled with puzzlement, along with the still-present shock.

"I...do not remember. There appears to be a blank period in my memory." He stood up hastily, knocking down his chair.

"Excuse me," he muttered, ever polite, before he strode off, exiting quickly out the Mess Hall doors. 

Kirk and McCoy slowly turned their heads and looked at each other.

"What was that all about?" McCoy asked. Kirk shrugged.

"Must've been a replicator malfunction. I can't imagine him purposely ordering anything with meat in it." 

"Yeah, but you can't tell me that his reaction wasn't...stronger than expected." 

Kirk repeated his shrug.

"Well, I suppose it's the same reaction you would have if you suddenly found out that those," he pointed at the Doctor's half-eaten pancakes, "were really...oh, say...Klingon tape worms."

McCoy looked at Kirk, then down at his food, thinking about the comparison. He shoved his plate off to the side.

"Well, there goes my appetite." 

  


Spock stumbled down the ship's passageway to his quarters, his mind reeling. The corridor was mercifully empty, for which the distraught Vulcan was grateful. Finally, with faltering steps, he entered into the welcome warmth of his room, which he always kept at Vulcan-norm temperature. 

He staggered over to his bed and sat down upon it, desperately trying to regain his control. Even the idea of eating meat disgusted him, and to think that he had actually committed the act, even unknowingly, made him feel ill. 

But surely, Spock thought, that could not be the only reason for this sudden lapse of focus and control he was experiencing. Emotions ran unchecked through his mind. Torrents of shock and unexpected, unexplainable rage flooded through him. However, a sudden, sharp spear of pain In his wrist told Spock that his surging emotions weren't the only problem he was facing. 

Spock held his wrist with his good hand, but dark green trickles of blood seeped through his fingers and ran down his arm, completely soaking through the bandage he had only recently replaced. 

Throwing aside his pride, Spock started to rise, intending to signal Sickbay, but found that he was unable to. His gut suddenly wretched, and he clutched his middle, stifling back a cry of agony. The pain increased, and he doubled over, his stomach heaving. Fiery darts of torment jetted across his skin, and it felt as though his insides were twisting and contorting.

Amidst the physical struggle, mental torture also hacked away at Spock. His mental barriers were shattered, completely broken down, as if another presence was trying to force its way into Spock's mind. He tried to fight back, to push the alien entity away, but to no avail. Whether it was too strong, or he himself was too weak, Spock didn't know. 

He tried to open his mouth, forcing his jaw open, having clenched it shut because to the pain. He tried to yell out, to call for help, but his voice emerged as only a hoarse whisper. Arms still gripped tight around his stomach, Spock decided to try a last resort. Summoning up what remained of his mental strength, he focused his thoughts as best he could and sent out a desperate plea. This was his last lucid action. He keeled over, falling harshly onto the floor. He shook and convulsed as his body...started to change.

  


Everyone say "Yeah, more angst!" You know you enjoy the torment of poor Spock, you sick twisted fiend. Hehe, j/k. We all enjoy some good ol' character torture. And we all LOVE cliffhangers, right? Right?? Anyway, thanks to all you wonderful reviewers that I love so much!

  


Lehne: Okay, you can play the villain! Except...I don't really have a specific villain yet, do I? Wait a minute! *Rummages through costume trunk* Wanna try on this wolf suit?

  


Bug: llamas.....hm, thats interesting. And yeah, the age gap between M&P is kinda weird to think about. And its snowing here too!

  


JessiTRON: Glad that u like it! And yes, i should promote RSK and the S.P.O.R.C!

  


Bree1387: Im glad that you found the story too! And here's more cliffhangers for you!

  


Mzsnaz: Hey, i gotta ask, what does your username mean? Interesting combination of letters. And yes, the ears were a big part of me coming up with this story!

  


Sean: No, actually, none of my other friends review as much as you! Well, Lehne does, but she's 39. (my aunts best friends, now my penpal) I thank thee graciously for thy religious reviewing!

  


MySchemingMind: **debauched** Ohhhhh I like that word! I will have to use it! Thanks for saying that i did well on the Chekov speech. yah, it is a lot harder to write for them, im better at Spock/McCoy dialog. Kudos. heh, i thought i was the only person who used that. When ever i say it, my friends just look at me weird....


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Star Trek. I always have. *note the sarcasm*

Wow, I actually updated this earlier than I expected to!!! But im afraid that the next chapter will take a while. See, after this point, I have very little of the plot planned out. I kinda know whats gonna happen on Kz'tyl, but besides that, Im lost. Im gonna talk to my sister about it, im at her house in St. Louis right now. But Im open to any ideas! Plot ideas, dialog ideas, and especially, IDEAS FOR HOW TO CURE SPOCK!! I've been researching werewolves a lot, but im still unsure about what method im going to use. So please, suggestions are welcome!!!!!!

Chapter Nine

Kirk leaned back in his seat, surveying the area around him. It was an epitome of calm. The environmental systems hummed gently against the backdrop of silence that had settled upon the bridge. Lt. Uhura quietly worked at her station, as did Sulu and Chekov. Kirk glanced over at the science station. A nervous lieutenant was currently manning it, obviously very apprehensive about taking over for the absent Spock. Kirk sympathized with the young man; those were tough shoes to fill. The Lieutenant, (What was his name again? Charlton? Kirk was terrible at names), was busy researching Kz'tyl, and the Captain planned to ask him for a report soon. However, his plans were interrupted by a sudden mind-jarring shout.

"JIM!!!!!"

"Who said that?" Kirk exclaimed, looking around wildly for the source for the shout.

The other bridge occupants glanced around at each other in confusion.

"Said what sir?" Lt. Charlton asked .

"You mean you...didn't hear it?" Kirk asked, baffled.

"No sir," Uhura answered, concern plain on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes...I'm fine. Never mind." Kirk rubbed the bridge of his nose, telling himself that he must have just imagined it.

'Maybe Bones is right,' he thought, 'I should get more sleep.' But he was so sure that he had heard something...

A few more silent minutes passed, and Kirk had just about convinced himself that it had only been his mind playing tricks on him, when Uhura spoke up.

"Captain, a security report has come in from Deck Five. There seems to be a disturbance coming from...from Mr. Spock's quarters."

Kirk turned sharply and looked at the communications officer.

"Disturbance? What kind of a disturbance?" 

Uhura touched her earpiece. 

"Apparently there's sounds of a struggle...and screaming. But security can't override the lock on the door. Captain?" 

Kirk was already on his feet. He hit the panel on his armrest.

"Sickbay!" The Doctor answered.

"McCoy h-" Kirk cut him off. 

"Meet me at Spock's quarters immediately. Kirk out." Before the startled Doctor had time to reply, the Captain had closed the channel and was on his way off the bridge.

Leonard McCoy, med-kit in hand, stepped out of the turbolift and nearly ran into Kirk, who was racing down the corridor. McCoy started to grumble a complaint but Kirk interrupted.

"Never mind. Come on, I'll explain the situation on the way."

At first the Doctor struggled to match Kirk's pace but after he had been told what was happening, he too hurried down the hall.

Upon arriving at Spock's quarters they noticed the small group of red-shirted security guards outside the door. They backed up when they say the two senior officers approaching. As they drew nearer, McCoy could see, or rather hear, the cause for concern. Unearthly sounds were coming rom the Vulcan's room. Horrible wails and howls assailed the ears of those gathered outside. Several loud crashing noises could also be discerned, as though the contents of the room were being flung against the wall. Kirk immediately walked up, cleared his throat and said,

"Computer, this is Captain Kirk. Override security lock." 

The computer replied with a musical beep and the door slid open.

McCoy hastened to Kirk's side, anxiety gnawing at him. Together they entered into the room...

...and stepped into a nightmare.

The wolf stopped his howling when he was the two intruders enter the room. The room itself gave ever indication of having been ransacked; the bed was in tatters, books and other items lay scattered haphazardly on the floor. The wolf turned his fang-edged snout to face the intruders, dark eyes flashing. There were two of them that he saw...one blue, one gold. Disjointed thought fragments fan through the wolf's mind, and above all one thought was dominant.

"KillHuntAttackKillHuntAttackKillAttackKillKillKill......."

He calmly surveyed his prey, ears flat against his skull, fur bristling. Yes....he sensed their fear. They were full of it.

He turned his attention to the seemingly weaker of the prey, the one in blue. A deep snarl escaped form the wolf's throat as he focused in on his new-find target. The lupine creature knew he was in his element. He lived to hunt, to attack, to kill. 

"AttackHuntAttackAttackHunt........."

A growing rage engulfed him. The lust for blood, the need to consume, it filled his heart and mind, stretching out to encompass his entire being.

"BloodBloodBloodBloodBlood......"

And now.....now he had prey, such willing prey who were conveniently frozen to the spot. The wolf could almost taste the blood already. He crouched down, preparing to spring....

"NO!!! Mustn't....no..." 

He stopped and violently shook his head, trying to clear the thought, but it persisted.

"Stop! Can't...mustn't...."

Now the wolf began to shudder uncontrollably. Slowly, incredibly slowly, Spock began to filter back in, shoving the wolf's mind aside. Spock began to regain control, to become more aware again. As soon as he did, however, he wished he hadn't. Pain shot through his body as his insides squirmed and re-arranged themselves. His back lengthened and his shoulders broadened. Claws became fingers and fangs rounded into teeth, all while convulsions racked his body. Lastly, the dark fur shrank into his skin. 

A violent spasm arched Spock's back, somehow forcing him to his feet. Hands pressed to his head, the Vulcan staggered backwards, trying not to scream. The edges of his vision were so dark that he couldn't see. Spock lurched back against a wall, leaning on it in a futile attempt to stay upright. His legs didn't cooperate however, and they buckled beneath him. He started to slide down the wall, but suddenly felt strong arms supporting him, slowly easing him onto the floor. He thought he heard voices, but his fogged mind refused to process what was being said. Then, for one moment Spock's vision cleared, though he was still violently shaking. 

Looking up into the faces of his friends, Spock saw their worry, and felt it through their contact with him. Their concern was like a palpable wave surrounding him. But amidst the concern Spock sensed something else. Fear. They were afraid of him. At this, Spock's sight blacked out again, as he slipped into welcome oblivion. 

What do y'all think about that? Im worried that my angst scenes are getting redundant, do you think so? Hmmmmm....

Anyway, as you see, I perceive a 'verevolf' as being kinda multiple-personalitied, you know? Like the wolf persona is completely different from the persons mind. Follow what im saying? Yah..... 

cryogenie: yeah, I try and say it a lot too...and I have lots of fun writing the banter, its my favorite part to write.

Kniga: What does change a werewolf in human/Vulcan form? And thats interesting about the Russian legend, very cool. I've never been to Russia or really studied it, so i wouldnt know.

Bug, Hobbit of the black pearl: Glad you liked that line! I love it when people review about specific phrases in the story and stuff like that. We've only had one snow day here, youre lucky!

Mzsnaz: Im still deciding about when some red-shirts are gonna die....and as you can see from this chap, yes, Spock was trying to contact Kirk.

Ster J: WHOOOOOOO!!!! (that was a howl by the way) *a gem* hehehe. I've never got that compliment before. *Fool beams brightly*

MySchemingMind: Nothings wrong with 39, or 36 for that matter. Nothings wrong with breakfast for dinner either, i do it all the time, so don't worry! And Thanx for the compliment on the Spock persona-ness! 


	11. Chapter 10

Disc: I don't own any werewolves, nor am I, personally, a werewolf. This is a good thing. I don't own Star Trek, or Spock. This is a bad, very sad thing.

Thank you for all the ideas! Im still playing around with what Im gonna do, but I do plan on curing him, sorry to all you who don't want him cured. But of course, my mind is subject to change, so you never know....

Sorry that it took so long to update!! Forgiveness all around? I've been really busy, and like I've mentioned before: Im desperately trying to figure out exactly where my plot is going. I've got the basics mapped up, but I have problems figuring out specifically how to get the characters from point A to point B, and what happens in between.

Anyways, on with the story!! 

Oh, and in this chapter, im assuming that the ship has a library, correct me if Im wrong. Also, how exactly would our dear Enterprise friends do research, apart from what is in the normal data banks? Did they have anything like the Internet, with search engines and such? Futuristic Yahoo? Please give me your input on such matters!!

Now really, on with the story!!!!!!

Chapter Ten

Dark memories swan in and out of Spock's fevered dreams. The feelings of lust and rage, the blood madness. The image of Doctor McCoy, but seen through the wolf's eyes, seen as prey.

Remembering that horrible moment, when he had been so prepared to kill his friend, Spock's mind balked. He thrashed out, screaming a wordless cry. He faintly heard the sound of running, then felt hands on his arms, gently calming him.

"Whoa, Spock. It's all right, calm down."

Spock stopped mid-scream as his eyes snapped open and he entered into the world of wakefulness. As his mind cleared, the images from his dream faded away, until the memory of them was nearly non-existent.

The concerned faces of Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk hovered over him. Spock, feeling a strong sense of deja vu, looked around at the all-too-familiar Sickbay walls. He slowly sat up, ignoring the Doctor's voiced objections and tried to regain his composure. Deciding to cut directly to the point, Spock asked the question that was racing through his mind.

"What happened?"

Doctor McCoy folded his arms across his chest, apparently deciding that any bedside manner would be useless.

"Well," he said, "we were hoping that you could tell us."

"What's the last thing you remember?" added Kirk.

Spock thought back, absentmindingly rubbing his wrist as he did so. The bite-wound appeared to have closed back up. Finally, Spock spoke.

"After I left the Mess Hall, I went to my quarters, feeling disorientated. I was sitting down, trying to focus when my wrist began to bleed. The very last thing I remember is starting to rise, intending to signal Sickbay. After that, I assume I blacked out. How long have I been unconscious?"

Kirk and McCoy turned and looked at each other warily.

"About an hour," the Doctor answered. He shifted uneasily for a moment then asked in a hesitant voice,

"Have you ever heard of the term 'lycanthropy'?" 

The question puzzled the Vulcan, but he replied in his usual precise tone.

"Yes. In folklore, it is the mythological ability to assume the form and characteristics of a wolf or being under the delusion of doing so. Why do you ask?"

Kirk sighed.

"Well, apparently, it's not as mythological as we thought," he said.

Spock's raised eyebrow was mute testimony to his curiosity. 

The two officers gave each other yet another uneasy glance, then McCoy cleared his throat.

"Spock...." he trailed of for a moment, then continued, "Something else happened before you blacked out. From what I can tell, you went through a absolute DNA change. Your genetic codes were completely rewritten, and you.....transformed. Then apparently the codes realigned themselves and you changed back. But you really did assume the form and characteristics of a wolf."

Now both of Spock's eyebrows were raised, threatening to disappear beneath his hair. Attempting to lighten the dark mood that had settled around them, Kirk placed a hand on Spock's shoulder, gave a wane smile and said,

"Essentially my friend, you're a werewolf."

The disbelieving Vulcan was unsure of what to say. Surely they must bed mistaken? Not wanting to openly question his friends' sanity, Spock merely gave them a skeptical look. McCoy figured what he was thinking and said,

"I know that this has got to be hard to believe, but we're not insane. Look," the Doctor picked up a small square mirror off a nearby table and handed it to Spock. "There are still remnants of the altered DNA present in your system."

Spock looked into the mirror and felt a small prick of surprise, though it was quickly repressed. His appearance had indeed changed, though not in the extreme. His normally sleek helmet of black hair was now longer, and much more unruly, giving him a rakish appearance. Spock reached up a hand and pushed back a stray lock that had fallen across his face. This action wasn't unnoticed by the Doctor who couldn't resist throwing out a jibe. 

"That's an interesting new look for you Mr. Spock. Brings out the color of your eyes."

Pointedly ignoring the Doctor's look of mock sincerity, Spock now turned his attention to his teeth. His canines had lengthened, taking on the look of small fangs, and making his appearance even more devilish. Still looking in the mirror and fingering a strand of his now-unkempt hair, Spock finally spoke. 

"Fascinating." 

Doctor McCoy threw his hands up in the air with a look of eternal chagrin. 

"Fascinating? You cold-blooded computer! You've changed into a wolf and back, for no apparent reason other than an earlier attack by a strange animal, defying all known sciences, and all you can say is fascinating?!"

The physician's ranting was met with Spock's usual coolness.

"Indeed Doctor, it is quite fascinating, from both a scientist's view and that of a doctor's, I would assume. This is a medical and scientific breakthrough. The fact that it has happened to me does not make it less intriguing." 

That said, Spock swung his legs over the side of bed and started to get shakily to his feet. The other two officers were immediately at his side, Kirk steadying him, while McCoy tried to push him back onto the bed.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the Doctor snapped. Spock managed to stave off the attentions of the two, and replied.

"To the library, to research my current conditions."

"Like hell you are!" McCoy said with a glare. "We still don't really know anything about what's happened to you, or why!"

"I am forced to agree with you Doctor." Before McCoy could recover from the shock of that statement, Spock continued. "That is precisely why I need to do this research. If I am able to sort through what is fact and what is fiction, we will be that much closer to a cure."

"You gotta admit Bones, he's got a good point," Kirk said. Then, he thought for a moment and said,

"Spock, one of the many things we don't know is what exactly prompted your transformation. Will you be able to tell ahead of time?"

Spock nodded.

"I believe that the symptoms will give me ample warning and enough time to contain myself in the brig."

"The brig?" Kirk asked, surprised. 

"Yes. From what little I know of the matter, in my transformed state, I will be a danger to others."

Kirk nodded gravely. 

"You're right. Well, if we have the good Doctor's blessing, let's head for the library. Bones?"

The Captain and the Vulcan looked pointedly at McCoy, who scowled and said,

"Fine. You can leave Sickbay, for now. But you'd better believe I'm gonna be your constant companion whether you like it or not!"

Looking none too pleased with that arrangement, Spock nodded and, flanked by his two protective friends, left Sickbay, with no idea of what the future would hold. 

TBC (it was requested that I clearly show the end of the chapter, so here you go! Thats To Be Continued just in case you don't know. It took me a while to figure it out the first time i saw it)

Don't you think that Spock would look good with longer, slightly unruly hair? I think he would. Not to mention the fangs look.....

Munchkincat: People often tell me I have too MUCH imagination, so im glad to hear that you like it! (My imagination that is.)

cryogenie: I would never kill Spock off, so don't worry about that! And yah, some of the times that McCoy is really ragging on Spock I kinda want beat him up...hehe.

Bookwormqueen: Sure, you could use the AU twist in a story if you want, but I don't think my story will be AU. Im gonna cure him eventually!

MySchemingMind: I really wasnt offended by your review, so don't worry, although it was nice getting an email. And I do plan on using some silver in the cure method. (Can you picture Spock with a silver earring?) Hehe!

TrekFear: Well, Im honored that my story was your first ST one to read! And no, although I doubt Spock will kill Kirk, Im debating whether or not to have him attack some red-shirts....

Zephie: I know, arent we twisted? Enjoying the torment of our favorite fictional characters. I hope you're still alive, I know I took a while to update!

Bug, hobbit of the Black Pearl: Yah, where's Lupin when ya need him? He and Spock could form a werewolf support group!

Mzsnaz: Yah, my mom told me that I shouldnt have that part in there, becuz wolves would be color blind, but I told her this was a Were-Vulcan, and therefor entitled to powers not normally attributed to normal animals.

Ster J: That's an.....interesting solution. Brings up some disturbing mental images though. Don't be offended if I don't use that particular cure.....:)

Stephanie: Yes, poor Spock...but then again, id be pretty freaked if my friend turned into a wolf. And I understand how you feel. Not that I have a crush on Spock, no of course not......

Dead Sexy: Ummm....Gracias? Hannon lle? (Thats thank you in both Spanish and Elvish) Love the name by the way!

  
  



	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine. Star Trek, that is. However, i DO own Lord of the Rings, DragonLance, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Xanth series......

I SOOOOOOOOOO sorry that it took me so long!! But now, I actually almost have a PLOT worked out, so hopefully the other updates wont take so long. And, its been really hectic at my house. My grandfather, whom I was very close to, passed away recently, and I just havent felt much like writing. But now, here you go, and nice LONG chapter! And we all know what that means: nice LONG reviews!! Right? RIGHT?? 

  
  


Chapter Eleven

The trip to the library passed in silence and without much event. However, Spock's hair did draw quite a few glances from passing crew members, many of whom, Kirk noticed, were female. Dr McCoy noticed this too, and had started to comment, but a look from Kirk silenced him. Their Vulcan friend appeared completely oblivious. 

When they arrived, Spock immediately headed for the computer console farthest from the door, hoping to gain a small inkling of privacy in the event of someone else entering the library. McCoy followed close behind, hovering over Spock as though expecting him to faint at any moment. The Doctor's worries were not completely baseless, for just as Spock reached the console chair his strength suddenly waned, and he was forced to grab hold of the back of the seat for support. McCoy instantly had his medical scanner out and running, and was gently holding him up. Spock's discomposure lasted only a moment however, and he discreetly shoved aside McCoy's attentions and sat down. Looking up at the Doctor's still-humming scanner, he said,

"While your concern is appreciated Doctor, I assure you, I am quite all right."

Kirk had moved toward Spock in concern, but the sudden fire in McCoy's eyes halted him. Sensing that an explosive lecture was about to ensue. Sure enough....

"All right? All right? Sorry to burst your bubble, but you're about as far from all right as it's possible to be! Just look at yourself! The only reason you're not confined to Sickbay right now is that I know you're needed here, and my mind is still subject to change on that."

As the Doctor went on reprimanding, Spock listened patiently with an air of complete innocence. Kirk didn't envy the Vulcan's position. The Captain had been on the receiving end of McCoy's rantings before, and he sympathized. But, taking a closer look at his First Officer, Kirk could understand McCoy's point of view. Even with the teeth and hair aside, Spock certainly wasn't looking his best. He was even paler than normal and his eyes looked weary and haggard. His normally ram-rod straight posture was slumped, but slightly, so that only someone who knew Spock well could notice. 

Finally, McCoy began to wind down, and Kirk took the opportunity and said,

"Okay Bones, we get the idea. Just be sure not to overwork yourself Spock."

"Oh, he wont be overworking himself," McCoy declared smugly. "He's scheduled for a sedative."

"When?" Kirk asked, surprised.

"As soon as I decide that he's overworking."

"Gentlemen, if we could return to the subject at hand..."

"Oh. Right, Spock." Refocused now on their task, Kirk scooted his chair closer to Spock, while McCoy contented himself with leaning in over their shoulders. That taken care of, Spock addressed the computer in his usual clear and precise voice.

"Computer, access all information pertaining to lycanthropy."

The computer complied with a beep and a small amount of data filled the screen. The three officers quickly scanned over the information.

"Well," McCoy sighed, "This isn't much help. All there is here is a definition and the case of some wacko who thought he was a wolf."

"Apparently StarFleet does not deem such information to be pertinent to the operation of a star ship," Spock mused.

"I can't imagine why not," McCoy said airily. "Seems like mandatory knowledge to me."

"Well I personally don't know anything about the subject," Kirk admitted. "Nobody tells stories like that any more."

A few moments of awkward silence transgressed, with none of the three officers sure of what to do next. Finally McCoy cleared his throat and said,

"If we're done here then Im gonna head back to Sickbay, see if I can start working on a DNA stabilizer."

Spock pushed his chair away from the console and rose, as did Kirk who said,

"Hold on. We've got to decide, who are we going to tell about this?"

The two blue shirts looked at each other. That particular problem hadn't crossed their minds yet. Now that he had their attention, Kirk continued.

"I don't think we should inform the entire crew; not until we've got more of a handle on the situation. However Spock, if it turns out that you do have to remain in the brig for a prolonged period of time, the bridge crew will have to be notified. Your absence would be easily noticed. Agreed?"

The other two officers nodded and Spock said,

"Perhaps an immediate staff meeting should be called. It would be more logical to discuss the problem before the brig issue becomes present."

Now Kirk nodded, and looked at McCoy for his input. The Doctor shrugged and said,

"Sure. After all, I would never want to risk being illogical, heavens forbid."

An eyebrow rose.

"That is quite a different attitude than which you have displayed in the past Doctor. It is a welcome change."

McCoy have Kirk a look of eternal dismay over Spock's inability at recognizing sarcasm and started to head off, calling over his shoulder.

"Buzz me once you get everyone rounded up Jim. I'll be down in Sickbay....along with Mr. Spock!" That last bit was pointedly added when the physician noticed that the Vulcan wasn't following. 

"Come on Spock, what part of 'constant companion' do you not get? Besides, I need to examine some of that fascinating lycanthrope-infected green blood of yours."

Now it was Spock's turn to give Kirk a long-suffering gaze, and as he strode off after the impatient Doctor, Kirk could've sworn he heard his First Officer mutter something about 'beads and rattles' under his breath.

**************

Dr. McCoy interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. He would have propped his feet up on the table, but he thought that might me a bit too unbecoming to a Chief Medical Officer. Though some might mis-interpret McCoy's laid-back attitude as being one of indifference, it was really the best way he had found of coping when mind-blowing situations presented themselves. Well, that and complaining of course. But the Doctor figured he had complained enough already, so he was prepared to take this staff meeting in stride. Meetings like this, in McCoy's opinion, were nothing more than a chance to practice his technique of sleeping with his eyes open. However, as McCoy looked around at the tables other occupants, he realized that this assemblage was going to be far from boring. 

Lt. Uhura was sitting across from hi, having an animated conversation with Nurse Chapel and Montgomery Scott. Next to the engineer sat Sulu and Chekov. One empty seat over was the Captain, impatiently waiting for everyone to arrive and get settled. And apart from the good Doctor himself, only one other occupant...

McCoy glanced sideways at the Vulcan seated next to him. Spock sat with his hands folded, quiet and impassive. Although, he had cast a disdainful brow over in McCoy's direction at the physician's unprofessional demeanor. Other than that he had hardly moved at all. 

The Doctor's observations were interrupted just then however, by the doors opening and admitting a young man in. McCoy recognized him from his medical charts as Lieutenant Thatcher, and was wondering why he was attending the staff meeting when he remembered; Thatcher was the main brig operator. Of course he'd have to be informed.

As the redheaded Lt. sat down in the empty seat, Kirk straightened up and gave everyone the 'We're about to start so be quiet' look. Once that had been accomplished, Kirk, obviously deciding against any opening formalities, jumped right in.

"First off: Mr. Chekov, what is the ship's status?" 

The young Russian answered,

"The ship is operating at optimum status, Keptin, and vill be passing by the Maradocia solar system soon. Ve are still three veeks before ve arrive at the planet."

"2.89 weeks to be exact."

McCoy didn't even need to look to know who delivered that tidbit of information. He sighed. The sky could be falling and Spock would still want to know the precise rate at which it fell.

The Captain nodded, more to himself than anything else. Then he cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen, we have a situation. No doubt the ship's grapevine has informed you of the cause of the injuries that Mr. Spock sustained on Myro-four, am I correct?"

The occupants of the table nodded, rather guiltily. 

"Apparently," Kirk continued, "that creature did more damage than what we had originally thought. Dr. McCoy, would you please explain?"

This unexpected request caused McCoy to unlace his fingers and straighten up. Dammit, why didn't Jim ever tell him beforehand that he was going to be expected to talk? With plans to prolong Kirk's next physical already forming in his mind, McCoy sat up straight and folded his hands together on the table. To his horror he realized he was starting to unconsciously mirror Spock, and he dropped his hands down and loosened up his posture. Once he had that finished he began.

"Well, from what I can figure, that wolf-thing injected Spock with some kind of molecular stimulant, and sort of DNA scrambler. There have been alien factors introduced into his bloodstream that, unfortunately, I haven't been able to isolate yet. We didn't realize these factors were present until about two hours ago when Spock...." There was no way to sugarcoat it. "...turned into a wolf and back."

The silence that followed was so thick that McCoy could hear the normally inaudible sounds of the thrumming warp nacelles. Then, everyone slowly turned to look at Spock. McCoy could see the gears in their minds clicking. Spock fidgeted a fraction of inch, probably the closest he had ever come to feeling awkward. 

"As you can see, there are still...traces of the DNA in my blood," he said as he pushed his hair off his face.

McCoy tried very hard to ignore the look on Christine's face. 

"So," Kirk said, "the reason that you're here is that we don't know when the next transformation will occur, or how to control it. When it happens though, Mr. Spock will be placed in the brig, in order to minimize the risk to others, as he has no control over himself while in his altered state. But, this information is highly classified. No one else is to now about it. Now," he looked around at everyone seated there. "Any suggestions?"

Uhura spoke up meekly.

"Well, I'm no doctor, but you just filter it out of his system? I mean, once you isolate it."

McCoy shook his head, upsetting his already messy swatch of brown hair even more. (He had run his fingers through it in frustration more times that day than he cared to remember)

"Even if I did manage to isolate it, which doesn't seem to imminent right now, I don't think our filtration systems could pick up on it. It's too damn subtle, and our filtration systems aren't fool-proof."

Chekov spoke up then, apparently trying to lighten the glum mood.

"Vell, in Russia, the vay to cure a man of such an infliction vas to get the him profoundly drunk off of wodka and-" 

Spock cut him off, but the Ensign did manage to draw out a smile from even the Captain.

"Ensign, we are not taking mythological ideas into consideration. Besides, inebriation does not affect Vulcans in the same manner as humans."

'Vulcans,' McCoy mentally scoffed. 'Race of designated drivers if there ever was one.'

Seeing that the conversation was drifting away form the intended topic, Kirk attempted to steer it back.

"Mr. Thatcher, are you positive that you will be able to keep Mr. Spock under control, as well as keeping the matter secret?"

"Yes sir," Thatcher answered confidently.

Thatcher, McCoy thought, was the kind of security officer who took every assignment he got dead seriously, which was fine by the Doctor. He'd had to patch up (and occasionally play coroner to) quite a few red-shirts on account of their carelessness. 

"Aye," Scotty put in, "and I can rig up a security lock outside the brig so ya don't need ta be worryin' about gettin' any unexpected visitors."

McCoy fixed the Scotsman with as menacing a glower as he could muster and said,

"Well, this time make sure that I'm informed of the clearance code!" 

Scotty grinned sheepishly, remembering the last time he had installed a security. The incident (which McCoy still determinedly swore that Jim and Spock had collaborated in on) had left the Doctor locked in a Sickbay storage unit for the good part of a day. As of yet, it was at the top of his list of things to plot revenge for. It didn't surprise his that everyone else there seemed to know about the incident, especially considering some of the choice phrases he had hollered once he'd been left out.

McCoy glared around at anyone who dared to smile, though he was having to bite back one of his own. Kirk had one of the biggest grins, further convincing McCoy of his guilt.

"Yeah, you think it's funny now," the physician said slyly. "but we'll see who's laughing when I.......Spock?"

A sudden sharp gasp of breath from Spock had stopped McCoy mid-threat. Turning, he was that all the color had drained from the Vulcan's face and shudders were running through his body. Fear clenched an icy grip over McCoy's heart as he reached out clasped Spock's shoulders.

'Oh God,' he thought 'I should have been watching him closer, I should have been paying attention, what kind of a Doctor am I? I'm sorry, Spock...please...' Out loud he said,

"Spock? Spock can you hear me?"

The First Officer looked up at him for one moment, with wide unseeing eyes. Then, he moaned and doubled over, clutching at his stomach in apparent nausea.

'Should have been watching, how could I not have noticed..'

Spock started to topple off his chair, but McCoy caught and held him, in a vain hope that the physical contact might help. Blood from Spock's wrist was creating a rapidly growing stain on the front of McCoy's uniform, but the physician didn't notice.

'Should've known, shouldn't realized, I'm so sorry...'

He started to call out for Jim, only to realize he was already besides him, barking out orders to others assembled there, who seemed unsure of what to do.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline-fueled strength that belied his wiry build, McCoy gently scooped the trembling Vulcan up into his arms. As he carefully cradled Spock's head against his shoulders, another piteous moan escaped him. Forcibly reminding himself to head for the brig and not for Sickbay, McCoy started off. Not knowing exactly what he was pleading for, couldn't help thinking, over and over,

'Please Spock.... I'm so sorry , please......' 

TBC

Yeah....the library thing didnt turn out the way i had originally planned....so, there ended up not being much reason for them to go there...but oh well.

Oh, MySchemingMind, in response to your email, Thatcher isn't the bad guy, but his best friend is. He will come in a bit later. 

Now, for Review Responses!!!!!!!

Josh robinson: glad you like but, when did I say seal? Im so confused...

Mzsnaz: yes, Spock is quite the babe magnet! The question is, does he enjoy it? 

Scifimimi: I try to keep it that way!

Cyrogenie: Well, in my little world there is a library on the Enterprise. Though, as I mentioned above they ended up not using it much.

MySchemingMind: Hmmm... that might be a bit too simple for my complicated mind. Hey, MyComplicatedMind...cousin of yours? Hehe. Too much sugar for me today, sorry. And yes, McCoy will have to watch out, especially with the w/w having already signaled him out as weak...*evil grin*

Ster J: Yah, I know you didnt mean that I had to use it, I was just teasing with you, sorry. Heh, and I thought I was the only one who occasionally referred to our favorite Vulcan as 'poor Spockie'

Stephanie: Yes, he might have to visit a barber at some point...before the ladies all attack him!! (hehe)

  
  


REVIEW!!! Oh, and BTW, is there a barber on the Enterprise? Who cuts peoples hair? A robot? Doctor McCoy? Hmmm...


	13. Chapter 12

Disc: Astro Trek es no pertencer o mio. El pertencers o Supremo. Supono el lobo-Spock es mio. Asi pues es Thatcher. Solo, no yo propio su camisa rojo. Ahora, si solamente yo pude forman un dinero poco coll de propio este personajes.....

Translation: Star Trek does not belong to me. It belongs to Paramount. I suppose the wolf-Spock is mine. And so is Thatcher. But, I don't own his red shirt. Now, if only I could make a little money off of owning these characters....

Ahh, yes, yet another day of being bored to tears during Spanish class. This time I managed to get hold of a Spanish-English dictionary. Though, I've prolly got my conjunction and grammar all wrong....

Sorry that, once again, it took me a while to update! But hopefully, since I already have the next chapter started, it wont take as long!!! But, my speed may be hindered b/c Im going with my gifted class on a week long field trip to Crow Canyon, Colorado come this Friday. I GET TO MISS SCHOOL FOR A WHOLE WEEK!! WHOOOOOO!!!! *deep breath* Okay, Im all right now, just had to get that out of my system.

  
  


Chapter Twelve

McCoy stared into the brig with concern, fascination and horror all mingled together. His back still ached from his dash to the brig with an armful of trembling Vulcan (The brig was, thankfully, on the same deck as the staff room) but he ignored the pain. He was still shook up from that amazingly close call. While the Doctor was carrying Spock down the corridor (which was no easy task, considering how much the Commander had shuddered and flailed) Lieutenant Thatcher had raced ahead. After removing a confused on-duty Ensign, he had readied the brig. McCoy had unceremoniously deposited Spock in it and had only just scrambled out himself when Spock had begun to transform. McCoy suspected that with whatever conscious sense Spock still possessed, he had held off for as long as humanly (or Vulcanly) possible.

The metamorphosis itself was horrible. As Spock writhed and thrashed on the ground, McCoy had to fight against every doctor instinct he harbored not to rush to his friend's side. Then, he was forced to fight to keep his breakfast down as Spock's body had begun to gruesomely restructure itself. 

All of that had occurred in less than twenty minutes, but to the three officers watching the now fully-formed wolf, it seemed an eternity. Thatcher was desperately trying to maintain a facade of being nonchalant, as though this sort of thing happened all the time. Kirk had his hand spread out over his chin, lost in thought as he gazed ahead. The creature (McCoy had a hard time thinking of it as 'Spock') paced for a moment, surveying its surroundings. It slowly turned its dark eyes toward them. Then, with a snarl, it sprang! It hit the force field with such strength that it was knocked backwards in a sprawling heap. Furious, it growled menacingly at the offending field, then tentatively raised a paw as if to test its boundaries. The resulting electric shock made the volume of the wolf's angry growl increase. Then, as it sat back on its haunches, the snarl escalated into a full-blown howl. The nightmarish sound reverberated in the room, inflicting McCoy with a strong desire to run into his quarters, jump into his bed and pull the covers firmly over his head. Kirk spoke up then as though attempting to distract from the spine-tingling noise. Though he tried to sound jovial, it came out strained.

"Well Bones, you're our resident witch doctor. What do you propose we do?"

McCoy snapped out of his reverie and answered.

"I want to get some of Spock's blood while he's in this state. Unfortunately I don't have the vaguest idea of how I'm going to manage that. Somehow, I don't think that walking in there and asking politely is gonna do the trick."

"Couldn't you just stun him sir?" Thatcher ventured, trying to be helpful. 

The Captain shook his head grimly.

"If the creature on Myro is any indication, then no. That thing held up under full phaser stun."

"Oh." Thatcher seemed deflated for a moment, then he brightened again. Nothing, the Doctor noticed, seemed to be able to keep that kid down for long. He was already up with another hopeful suggestion. 

"What about some kind of knock-out gas? We could flood the containment area with it and...."

McCoy hated to have to dash the young redshirt's resilient spirit, but he had already thought of and dismissed the idea.

"Hypothetically, we could release some anaesthetic agents into the air and render him unconscious," he said, "But, I don't want to risk it. Too many unknown variables I'd have to account for when I calculated the dosage. That insane hybrid physiology of Spock's never reacted well to sedatives, or just about any medicine in general, very well in the first place, so there's no telling how it would affect him as a wolf. Besides, if we knocked it out, he might not transform back into-"

"Shhh!" the Captain interrupted, holding up a hand. "Listen."

McCoy listened, and the brig's newly-acquired silence pressed in upon him. The howling had stopped. Together as one, the officers turned their attention back to the room's other occupant. The wolf was no longer the menacing beast it had been. It's previously knife-sharp eyes had turned dim and it was shaking violently, jerking its head back and forth as though trying to shake its mind clear.

"He's transforming back," Kirk whispered, as though too much noise might disrupt the process. McCoy had already realized this, and was fishing through his black medical bag. He pulled out a vial and inserted it into a hypospray. As he adjusted the settings on the hypo he answered Kirk's unvoiced query.

"It's epinephrine," he said quickly, keeping an eye on the still-twitching wolf. "I think the reason that Spock blacked out last time was because his body went automatically into shock. But, this'll raise his blood pressure so that won't happen again."

Kirk gave an absent-minded nod of approval, but was staring past the physician, along with Thatcher. For by now, the animal had thrown itself once again at the force-field in an obvious last-ditch escape attempt and now lay writhing on the floor. 

Hypo in hand, McCoy stood ready at the brig entrance. Kirk stood right behind him.

"Lt. Thatcher," he said, quietly but firmly, "prepare to drop the field on my signal....."

****

The first thing that Spock noticed as his mind and body resurfaced were the soothing tones of his friends. He latched onto their voices, anchoring himself against the gales of pain that beat down upon him. Their concerned faces swam over him, but Spock couldn't comprehend what they said. Then, he felt a hypo hiss against his neck. The world sprang into sharp relief and he was able to make out what was being said.

"Spock?" Kirk asked gently, as McCoy flitted around, checking the Vulcan's vital signs. "Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

Spock nodded weakly, but it was then that he noticed the cold. The ship always presented a chill to the desert-born Spock, but now it felt freezing. Unlike his last transformation, he wasn't in the warmth of his quarters. The Captain saw the Vulcan shivering and said,

"Computer, increase ambient temperature by fifteen degrees."

Spock gave his friend a grateful nod as the room got steadily warmer. The stimulant the doctor had given him was working as desired; 

he was conscious and lucid. Unfortunately, it was also producing a rather less than desired effect. Under normal circumstances, Spock could have easily combated the nausea, but it was a struggle in his weakened state. Not wanting to risk opening his mouth, Spock reached up and curled his fingers around McCoy's wrist to get his attention.

"Hmm?" the physician inquired, still engrossed in his medical tricorder. Then, he caught site of the Vulcan's clenched frame.

"I was afraid this would happen," McCoy sighed. He slipped his hand under Spock's elbow and cautiously drew him up to a sitting position. "The medicine wouldn't affect you like this if your organs weren't so scrambled up..."

Spock had only just sat up before he doubled over, unable to fight the wrenching in his gut. His stomach had nothing in it to surrender though, and he gave a violent series of dry retches, while Kirk and McCoy held him steady. Finally, with one long shuddering breath, Spock regained his control.

"Thank you," he told them, his voice slightly raspy. Then, he noticed that McCoy was rubbing his back and wincing. 

"Doctor, are you injured?" the First Officer asked, curious. McCoy stared at him.

"Don't you remember?" The Doctor thought for a moment. "No, I guess you wouldn't. Damn. I should've known." He shook his head grimly. "I should have known." 

Now Spock was more baffled than ever, and the Captain's chuckling didn't help.

"Should have known what, Doctor? To what event are you referring?" 

But McCoy just continued grumbling.

"Figures. It just figures. My back gets thrown out to Hell and you still manage to weasel your way out of being properly grateful. Damn evasive Vulcan..."

Seeing that a quick answer from McCoy wasn't going to be forthcoming, Spock turned to Kirk, who had to choke down his laughter.

"I don't know how he managed it," he said, "but the good doctor carried you from the briefing room to here." 

If Spock felt any loss of dignity upon learning that he'd carried like a child in the arms of the man he bickered with most, he gave no indication. He contented himself by just raising an eyebrow and saying,

"Indeed?" Then, at the doctor's vehement nod he added,

"I hope the transaction did not cause you any lasting damages."

McCoy's gruff exterior faded a little.

"Nah," he drawled. "Though I must admit, this is taking the whole 'comrade-in-arms' gig a bit too far...." he trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he turned to Spock with an amazed expression on his face.

"How did you do that?" he asked bluntly. 

Spock gave him the look of innocent non-comprehension that only a Vulcan can muster. 

"Do what Doctor?"

McCoy waggled an admonishing finger at his patient.

"You turned the attention away from yourself. We're supposed to be discussing your health, not mine!" He shook his head wryly. "Jim, didn't I always say he'd make one helluva lawyer?"

Kirk nodded enthusiastically. 

"That you did Bones. We could make some good money off of him in the courts."

"Mmm-hmm. Get a nice little law firm set up. I'm afraid that you would have to cut your hair though Spock. A lawyer's gotta look impeccable."

Completely confused now, and with no idea of where the conversation had gone to, Spock simply nodded. He could agree with one of McCoy's statements. The uneven layers of his dark hair had grown even longer, falling into his face and covering the points of his ears.

The sudden grin that appeared on McCoy's face just then suggested that Christmas had come early. His misleadingly innocent-looking blue eyes took on an evil glint and he leaned over and whispered something to Kirk, who's face took on an equally malicious smile, which he quickly tried to stifle. But the whisper hadn't been soft enough to escape the sensitivity of Vulcan hearing.

"I fail to see why you place a wager on whether or not Nurse Chapel would wish to 'fix my hair' for me."

The Captain's laugh turned into a hastily-improvised cough.

"No Spock, I guess you wouldn't," McCoy told him, in a tone that suggested extreme disappointment at the Vulcan. Then, deciding that his Spock-teasing quota had been filled for the day, he moved on, giving the inquiry that Spock had been expecting.

"A bit late perhaps, but how're ya feeling Spock?"

"I am quite well." Not exactly a lie, more of an....exclusion. His head throbbed, making the blood pound in his ears. Also, his earlier encounter with the force field (even though he had been in wolf form at the time) had left him sore and slightly dizzy. But, he didn't think this worth mentioning. 

Carefully angling his aching back, McCoy stood up.

"Good," he said. "Now, can you walk to Sickbay, or should I call for a stretcher?"

"Unless," Kirk piped in, "you want Dr. McCoy to carry you again..."

"I believe I can walk." To test this theory, Spock pushed himself up off the floor. He swayed dizzily for a moment, but soon steadied himself. Then he turned to McCoy.

"However Doctor," Spock informed him. "I will not be accompanying you to Sickbay."

"Oh really," McCoy drawled. "And what, pray tell, prompted this decision, Dr. Spock?"

The Vulcan stood placidly with hands clasped behind his back. His face was a cold, controlled mask, a sure sign, Kirk knew, of hidden inner turmoil. When he spoke, his voice was flat and completely emotionless.

"As was evidenced earlier, the transformations are unpredictable, and the rapidity at which I change seems to fluctuate. For the safety of myself and the rest of the crew, I feel I must remain in the brig, or at least until the trigger is found."

McCoy didn't need the 'listen to him, Bones' look that Kirk gave him to know that Spock was right. He also knew the toll this would take on the Vulcan. The three officers stood there awkwardly for a moment before anyone spoke.

"Well," Kirk said, "I better go and get Scotty so he can install that lock..." At a complete loss for words, he finished off with a rather lame "See you later" before he left, stopping first to give a quick update of the situation to Thatcher.

McCoy on the other hand, rarely found himself at a loss for words when it came to dealing with Spock.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?"he demanded. "And being unconscious doesn't count."

"Approximately 2.6 days."

"Well, you're gonna get some now. I'm going to prepare some things in Sickbay and when I get back, you'd better be sleeping like the dead!"

With that, he strode off.

For once, the First Officer didn't argue with the doctor's prescription. He stretched his lean frame out on the brig's cot and had only just closed his eyes before he was asleep.

  
  


As for Dr. McCoy, he was already ambling down the corridor, mentally calculation medicine doses and wondering how long he could camp out in the brig before either Thatcher kicked out, or Spock drove him crazy.

'It was' he mused, 'going to be an interesting time...'

  
  


TBC

  
  


Okay, that last line was pretty lame, but I was in a hurry to finish up the chapter! Oh, and don't worry; the whole story isnt going to be just a series of transformations, there is a plot!

Oh, and and a big thank you to my Aunt Cheri for teaching me about epinephrine! 

Lehne: Yes, I spent many long sleepless nights coming up with that particular character. It was really quite a test of my imagination, I assure you. *Grin* And I'll have to think up a cure, since we cant leave him as a wolf forever....

Fantomfairy: Well, Im honored that this is the first Star Trek fic youve ever read. And yes, Im afraid I have a strong tendency to write cliffhangers....

Cryogenie: I would be worried too if McCoy was my barber....ok, scratch that, Id be scared to death! And yes, Spock'll have to watch out for the ladies....

Datakenobi05: Doesnt everyone love Spock? And Im glad you like my story!

Romulan Empress: Well, i wrote more, though not very fast Im afraid....but now you know what happened!!

Bree1387: I know, the Spock/McCoy has always fascinated me too, its one of my favorite things in Star Trek actually! Im glad that you think I write it so well!

Mzsnaz: Cliffhangers always do seem evil when you read them in other people's stories, huh? And oh yeah, is McCoy gonna feel that in the morning! Thats what he gets for not letting some brawny Ensign do the deed....But thanx for the compliments! I love writing for McCoy, hes so much fun! (And I appreciate your sympathies, thank you.) 

Scifimimi: I appreciate your sympathies, thank you. And I appreciate that you like my story!

MySchemingMind: I still run around with cardboard boxes....well, I like to roll down hills in them...anyways, thanx! I love writing McCoy, he's just so...freelance, you know what i mean? And I guess Spock's life is still hanging in the balance, but Im afraid it might be that way for a while...

Until next time then, wish me luck in Colorado (Im praying that there arent any kind of desert toads there, Im terrified of toads) and REVIEW REVIEW!!!

  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 13

Disc. Too lazy to think up an interesting disclaimer so Ill just say "Star Trek is not mine"

Ok, so maybe I didnt get this chapter out all that quickly. sheepish grin Im sorry.

WARNING!! In about a week, I will be leaving for Oregon, for about two months. I will not have any Internet access during that time, so I won't be able to post anything. HOWEVER, I will have plenty of time to write while Im there (60 hour drive....oh yeah, plenty of time) so when I get BACK I will have lots of new chapters and might even FINISH this story!! (GASP) Also, I have a new story that Im working on, courtesy of a Challenge from Schemer, so I will that to post too.

Anyhoo, on with the story!!!

**Chapter Thirteen**

For Spock, the next week passed by in a haze. His transformations came and went with alarming variety. While some lasted under ten minutes, on one occasion he had been in wolf form for over an hour. One day he hadn't had any transformations at all, but the next day he'd had three.

Whenever he could, Spock worked feverishly at the computer console that Scotty had installed for him, trying to find a pattern, a trigger, _anything_. But his efforts yielded no results. The fact that Myro's information banks were not yet open to starship access also hindered the task. However, the main problem that vexed McCoy was, as the physician explained to Kirk; "I can't get any of that damn wolf's blood. If I did, I could analyze the different factors at work. But, I cant risk knocking it out, and nobody can get near it with any reasonable safety! Without that, Im not getting any closer to finding a cure."

Spock's friends were present as much as possible, but for Kirk, his duties as Captain kept him tied up. At first, Dr. McCoy had tried to be there at every transformation, but as Spock had finally told him,

"Doctor, while your magnanimity is appreciated, fatigue will only oppose your efforts."

So, if McCoy couldn't be there, Nurse Chapel administered the necessary epinephrine. (Which they had managed to effectively mix with a anti-nausea drug.)

And it wasn't just the medical personnel who were kept busy.....

Sitting in the Mess Hall, Lt. Thatcher rubbed his eyes and looked down at his schedule. He'd practically been living in the brig for the past week. Indeed, he'd just finished almost three straight shifts. Not that he minded; Thatcher liked to work hard, and this was certainly one of the most interesting assignments he'd ever had. But, it was tiring. He had to be at constant attention so that, when needed, he could quickly activate the force field (it was only put up when Spock was in wolf-form) and call Sickbay. Throughout all this, Thatcher's respect for Mr. Spock grew daily. It amazed him how the Commander managed to keep a calm, logical outlook on the situation, despite the agony it caused him. But, Thatcher supposed, Vulcans probably never had nervous breakdowns.

Thatcher yawned so loudly that he didn't even notice Lt. Charlton until he had slipped into the adjacent seat.

"Hey Jerry," the young science officer said as he sat down, looking at his friend's bleary-eyed face. "You sure look like you're having a good time."

"I was until you showed up," Thatcher shot back with a grin. "But I'll bet there's nothing I can do to make you go away, huh?"

"Nope!" Charlton replied brightly.

"Too bad," Thatcher sighed with mock disappointment. Charlton gave a gleefully apologetic shrug and Thatcher went on.

"So Sean, what've you been up to lately?"

"Been up on the bridge, handling Mr. Spock's station. Is he still in Sickbay?" Thatcher gave a weak 'I-suppose-so' gesture. "Man, he's got that computer rigged to run data by so fast, I've spent half my time telling it to slow down. What about you?" To answer his own question, Charlton leaned over and glanced at the duty roster in front of Thatcher.

"Hmm. Looks like a barrel of fun," he observed. "Who're you guarding in there anyways?"

Thatcher squirmed uncomfortably. He hated to lie but....

"Well," he said, "Ummm..."

"Ah," Charlton interrupted. "I see. You could tell me but you'd have to kill me, right?"

"Right," Thatcher confirmed with a smile, glad to be off the hook.

"So," the blue-shirted officer said, searching for another topic, "How's the new roommate assignment going?"

"With Lt. Korval?" Thatcher shrugged. "All right I guess. He keeps to himself mostly."

Charlton leaned forward confidentially.

"I dunno...he's kinda odd," he informed Thatcher in a low voice. "You know, he was asking me about that day that I was on the bridge, when there was that disturbance by Mr. Spock's quarters. Seemed real interested."

Thatcher's redshirted instincts perked up. Possible security leak? Nah, probably just curiosity. He told this to Charlton who agreed. Then, finding that subject closed, the science officer switched yet again.

"Hey, you know that cute new officer, Ensign Bross?" Thatcher nodded and Charlton gave a roguish grin. "Well, word on the street is that she's been eying you."

As much as that information appealed to him, Thatcher was unable to stifle another yawn attack. Charlton's eyes widened.

"Okay, you've lost your interest in women." He spoke as though this was a sure sign of the Apocalypse. "Now I _know_ you're tired. Go to bed. Go."

"Since when are you the resident expert on women?" Thatcher grumbled. "Last I checked, your girlfriend calls you 'Seanathon.'"

The Seanathon in question gave a good-natured shrug, with a 'whatever keeps the lady happy' expression.

Deciding to take his friend's advice, Thatcher pushed himself out of the chair. After mumbling a farewell to Charlton, he headed off.

"Hey Eli," Thatcher said as he entered into his quarters. His roommate, Lt. Eli Korval was, as usual, curled up in a chair with a large book propped up on his lap. He looked up and gave a brief nod of greeting before turning back to his book. Korval was one of the few people Thatcher knew that still kept real books, quite a few of them in fact. Wandering over to the bookshelf, Thatcher perused over a couple of titles. Demons, Past and Present; Vampires: a Study of the Undead; Ghosts, Phantoms and Wraiths; Werewolves: Drawing the Line Between Fact and Lore.....

That last book caught Thatcher's eye. Gently, he drew the dusty volume off the shelf. If he could get this to Mr. Spock....The First Officer had said that they weren't going to delve into any mythological aspects, but it would still be an interesting read.

"Eli?" Thatcher questioned, holding up the book. Korval looked up again. "Can I borrow this?"

Korval gave him a long, scrutinizing gaze. Thatcher had the uncomfortable feeling that his worthiness was being considered. Finally Korval spoke.

"All right. But be very careful with it."

Thatcher assured him that he would be careful. He started to flip through the pages, but the maddingly small print made him remember how tired he was. Oh well, he'd just have to bring the book to Mr. Spock in the morning.

As Thatcher went to sleep with the book placed securely on his bedside table, he was unaware of Korval's thoughtful, inquisitive gaze upon him.

**TBC**

Yes, yes I know, OC characters are not nearly as fun to read about as our dearly beloved regulars. Sorry, but I felt this needed to be added to...stimulate the plot. And, as previously mentioned, I won't be able to update for about 2 months, and I didnt want to leave y'all on an extremely suspenseful moment.

Did you know that the computer doesnt consider 'undead' to be a word? It kept trying to get me to change it to "Vampires: a Study of the Unread." Go figure.

Sooo...who's figured out who the sort-of bad guy is yet? Come on, it doesnt require that much thinking!

As for my friends Ashlee Bross and Sean (aka Seanathon) Charlton, I hope you're happy with you cameos. Im expecting gratefulness by the way!

Well, see y'all in about two months, when, hopefully, I will have a TON of stuff to post!!

mzsnaz:yes, I had a great time! And yes, Spock is quite adept at that. What can I say, he's got mad skill. (sorry, my own little phrases keep slipping into things)

MySchemingMind: McCoy might have been innocent when he was like.....5 maybe. wait, what am I thinking? He was prolly born mischievous!But thank you. I love writing for Spock and McCoy!

Eatingroastbeast: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And Im liking the name by the way

Neurotic Squirrel: Thanks, i really like that image too! Kinda makes you want to just go "Awwwww..."

Dranzer bit: I will! If I could just post faster, we'd be good! But thank you!

Aura Starfire: I think that wolves can do the eyebrow thing, I've seen my dog do it before and it cracks me up. In fact, I plan to use that later in the story!! And its not really inspired by Lupin, although he IS one of my favorite HP characters

Romulan Empress: Im trying to keep him out of the brig but its just so dang hard!! And I didnt see any toads while I was there, for which I am quite thankful.


	15. Chapter 14

Today, my dog, Fool of a Bean, will be providing the oh-so-exciting disclaimer.

"Woof. Woof woof arf! Rrrrarf arf! snuffle snuffle Ruff!"

Thank you Bean. applause Translation of that is: "My owner doesn't own Star Trek, though she seems to spend an awful lot of time watching it, while she should be feeding me."

Ok. I am so sorry about how long it has taken me to get this up! An apt phrase to describe the making of this chapter would be "The hamster's running, but the wheel ain't spinning." Yes, my wheel was being stopped by the demon known as Writer's Block. shudder But, I got past it eventually (hey, it only took me....4 months.) And here we go.

**Chapter 14**

"Here sir," Thatcher said. He'd arrived for his morning shift, and was delivering the book to Spock, who took it with curiosity. When he glanced at the title, an eyebrow rose. Thatcher was suddenly worried that he might have offended the Vulcan.

"I um, thought you might find it interesting sir, but if you don't want to borrow it, that's okay," he added hastily.

"I'm sure I will find it fascinating Lieutenant. Thank you."

Letting a relieved smile escape, Thatcher assured the Commander that it was no problem, then headed to his console.

Impressed by the young man's thoughtfulness, Spock sat in the chair by his computer console and opened up the old book. He flipped through it, idly scanning over text and illustration. Although absently reading, Spock's mind was on other matters. He'd had to momentarily struggle with himself so as not to snap a scathing remark to Thatcher. Such incidents were occurring more and more frequently, no doubt an effect of the wolf DNA still circulating in his blood. However, as long as he kept on the alert, it was easily controllable.

Suddenly, Spock stopped, looking hard at the page he had landed on, brows drawn together in thought. Abruptly, he swivelled around to face the computer. His fingers flew over the keys as he entered in rapid amounts of data. Once done, Spock studied the screen for a moment. He allowed himself the _slightest_ upward twitch of his mouth, the human equivalent of shouting for joy. Then, he tapped a nearby panel.

"Captain, would you and Dr. McCoy please come down to the brig? There is something I would like to discuss with you."

The last thing Kirk and McCoy expected to see when they walked into the room was Spock, sitting with a large book cradled in his lap, looking like he was about to burst into read-aloud story time. But, that was the sight they were presented with none the less.

"What's up, Spock?" McCoy said, moseying over after exchanging greetings with Thatcher. "Reading romance novels on the sly perhaps?"

Spock didn't even bat an eye.

"No, Doctor," he replied non-chalantly, not bothering to look away form the computer screen. "Though, I would assume it is a common pastime for you, judging by your lack of non-fictional romantic adventures."

McCoy's expression suggested that he wouldn't have been more taken aback even if a herd of jackalopes had suddenly stormed the brig.

"What?" he stammered, completely thrown off track. "I-I..."

Watching the doctor's struggle to regain his composure, Kirk chuckled.

"You're in rare form today Spock," he said, walking over to stand next to his Vulcan friend. "What's got you so excited?"

What with the elation oh his discovery and the sight of the still-sputtering McCoy, Spock had to work very hard to retain yet another illogical smile.

"I believe that, thanks to the assistance of Mr. Thatcher," Spock gave a gracious nod in the Lieutenant's direction, "I have discovered the trigger to my transformations."

That brought McCoy back around; the medical scientist in perking up.

"You have?" he asked eagerly, "How did you find out? What is it? Do you-"

"Bones," Kirk interrupted, "calm down before you hurt yourself. Give him a chance to talk." He turned to the patiently-waiting Vulcan. "Mr. Spock, you have the floor."

"Thank you, Captain." With that, Spock switched into what other officers on the ship had termed his 'lecture mode' (though they never said this to his face". This mode never failed to make McCoy feel like he was back at the Academy.

"It was this book," he began, indicating the volume on his lap, "that first alerted me to the possibility. The research I conducted indicates-"

"Hold on," McCoy interjected, curiosity overriding any manners he might have had. "What exactly did the book say?"

Somewhat miffed at the interruption, Spock gestured at a passage on the page. The doctor leaned over his shoulder and struggled to decipher the small, faded print.

"'The werewolf's... transformations'" he read slowly "'are brought on by the...appearance of a full moon.'" McCoy stared blankly at the page for a moment.

"But, there aren't any moons in space," he said, puzzled.

"At least, not any that orbits the Enterprise in a regular pattern," Kirk added.

"That is true," Spock said. "However, the gravitational stimuli propagated by such lunar entities is analogously generated by other celestial phenomenon, in quantities of 1/6g, which-"

"English would be nice," McCoy suggested with a yawn, have been lost after 'propagated.' The doctor then watched happily as Spock worked to bite back a reflexive "I _was _speaking English." A moment later, Spock turned and tapped a few keys on his console. Two graphs lit up the computer screen.

"The first graph," he explained, "charts the transformations I've experienced in the past week. The second graph charts the times when the Enterprise has come into contact with a new source or gravity, also over the same time period. Now, observe." A few more keys were tapped and the two graphs moved together. And the information aligned.

"As you can see, the transformations occur whenever I am subjected to gravitational pull that I am not already acclimated too."

"And when the pull is stronger, you stay a wolf for a longer period of time," Kirk observed, eyes glued to the screen.

"Correct."

"So, what would happen if you beamed down to a planet?" McCoy asked.

"I believe that, after an initial transformation, I would remain stable. Unless, of course, I cam in contact with something else, like the added pull of a full moon."

The other two nodded.

"Makes sense now that you think about it," Kirk said.

"Yes," Spock agreed. "And I can now determine when the transformations will take place. If the Enterprise maintains the course and speed, the one will occur in..." he did some fast mental calculating, "28 minutes, 7.32 seconds."

McCoy sighed. "You know Jim, sometimes I wonder. Does he really know the exact milliseconds, or is he just trying to sound smart? One of these days I'm gonna get a stopwatch and find out."

He grinned at Spock's look of mild annoyance.

"That's right you crafty Vulcan, I'm on to you," the doctor informed him. "Oh, and can I see this?" Without waiting for permission, McCoy reached over and tugged the book off Spock's lap.

"Yes, you may, Doctor," Spock said darkly.

"What for Bones?" Kirk asked.

"Well, considering how this book lead to finding the trigger, it makes sense to check and see if it has anything to say about a cure. Can't hurt to look, and we've still got about 25 minutes to wait."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"A surprisingly logical course of action."

McCoy looked up from flipping through the pages.

"Why Spock, I'm touched." He returned to flipping. A moment later-

"I've got it!" he announced. "It says here, 'In order to cure a werewolf, take a club that has been blessed by a priest.....and beat the werewolf over the head until he is dead.'"

McCoy stared down at the page for a moment.

"Well, a fat lot of help that is!" he exclaimed. "How in hell are we supposed to find a priest!?"

Kirk shot him a sideways glance.

"And the 'until he is dead' part?"

"Oh yeah, that too."

About 40 minutes later, McCoy was walking a somewhat dazed Spock around the perimeter of the room. (He'd found this to be the best way of getting Spock out of his post-wolf stupor.) After a few laps the First Officer had regained his senses, and the doctor led him back to the holding cell, with Kirk alongside. Spock sat down on the small bench and leaned gratefully back against the wall, closing his eyes.

McCoy gave his friend a small, sympathetic smile. All of this genetic mayhem was taking it's toll on the Vulcan; each time it left his drained, sore, and probably with one hell of a headache.

The doctor bounced on his toes for a second.

"Well," he said, more to end the awkward silence than anything else, "I guess your theory was right, Spock."

The Science Officer opened his eyes.

"Obviously."

McCoy mentally entertained a few dark thoughts about smart-aleck Vulcans.

"Sir, does this mean that you don't have to stay in the brig all the time?" Thatcher piped up.

"That is correct, Lieutenant," Spock answered quietly, still a bit breathless. "You, the doctor, and I simply need to meet here shortly before the appropriate time. I will supply you with a schedule. It will be accurate as long as the ship stays on it's plotted trajectory and speed."

It struck McCoy just then how, well, _wolfish _Spock was starting to look, even in his normal state. His Vulcan ears and eyebrows had always given his a rather devilish appearance, but now it was enhanced even more. The dark hair that used to be so impeccable now fell across Spock's face in ragged layers. Whenever he spoke, his overly-sharp canines were plainly visible.

Kirk was apparently thinking along the same lines as McCoy because he said,

"Looks like your hair's starting to get out of hand again."

"I can cut it for you," McCoy offered.

Spock's eyes were the only thing that suggested any expression, and what they expressed was a clear "I'd rather be buried alive."

"What?" McCoy exclaimed defensively.

"Bones," Kirk explained, "the last time he let you, not only was the whole thing uneven, but you hacked off one hunk of hair practically to his scalp.".

"Sheesh, it's not like I cut off an ear tip. I'm a doctor, not a barber! Besides, that wasn't my fault. It would've turned out fine if Thatcher had sneezed and startled me."

"Being that you are a doctor, one would assume that you would be accustomed to people sneezing."

Kirk couldn't help but laugh.

"He's got you there!"

McCoy scowled.

"You-" he pointed a menacing finger at the Captain- "had better be quiet, or I'll sneak into your quarters and cut all _your_ hair off!"

Kirk grinned.

"Aw, come on now Bones. You wouldn't do that. And besides, who would want a bald captain?"

**TBC**

Um....yeah. I know, I know. Where's the action? Where's the suspence? Where's the....plot? Hopefully, it'll all come in sometime. I really havent got this story planned out too well...but I still intend to finish it! So, if anyone wants to hear my disorganized ideas for the rest of this story, and wouldn't mind giving a few pointers...email me or something. (Wow, I sound really lame and desperate. Oh well.)

Neral Idazmi: Im honored that I got you longest review! As for Spock/McCoy vs. Kirk/Spock...well, im not trying for either, in the slashy sense. I don't really go for slash. But, if that's what you want to make of it, it's fine by me. Im glad you like the story!

Seany: Oh, yes, he...uh, you, are quite the 'mezzano.' Im glad you like your cameo, even if, as you told me, his girlfriend's got him 'whipped'

Bug Vulcan of Central Park: Thats okay if it's been a while since you've reviewed. Its been a while since I've...written. But here it is now, maybe not many chapters, but one's still good...right?

Chibling: "dudicle." I don't think I've ever heard that one before. Awesome. Im happy that this your favorite!

John and Tia: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope that my story continues to be good!

Mzsnaz: Yep, you it in one. (Guessing the correct bad guy that is) Well, maybe more 'misguided' than bad...anyways, thanks for the input on my OC's. Im trying not to put them in too much-don't want anyone getting bored. But Im glad that you liked them

lulama: Here ya go, I updated. Took me awhile....sorry.

Bookwormqueen: Yes, it was the wrong chapter at first. Thanks for the hint! If you hadnt said anything, I prolly wouldnt have noticed. But its fixed now, and all is well.

Hope I didnt miss anyone. Well, time to go, review review, and hopefully the next chappie won't take four months. Though, you can always go and read my other Trek story if you havent already....hint hint


	16. Chapter 15

First off: The rows of many 8's, those are my transitions. It wouldn't load up asterisks for some reason. So don't be confused by that.

Umm….I really don't have an excuse for myself for taking so long. But if it makes you feel any better, I redid Chapter 3, so enjoy. I'm slowing working my way through the story, editing and fixing stuff, while I work on new chapters. Speaking of brand spankin'-new chapters…may I proudly present:

Chapter 15

'_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep--'_

Jerry Thatcher reached out and switched off the bedside alarm. He groaned softly and rolled out of bed. His body did _not_ like him getting up in the middle of the night like this. His working hours for the past few days had been erratic, due to the temperamental nature of Mr. Spock's transformations.

Trying to move quietly so as not to disturb his roommate, Thatcher shrugged into his uniform and pulled on some boots. He had just reached the door when, from across the room-

"Exactly where might you be going?"

Startled at the sudden noise, Thatcher jumped and glanced back. Eli Korval was propped up one elbow, his dark hair rumpled from sleep.

"Sorry to wake you," Thatcher said, his heart rate returning to normal, "but I've got brig duty."

"Oh?" Korval raised an eyebrow in a manner not unlike Spock's. "And what accounts for these strange shifts you've been working lately?"

"Well, the person we're guarding is rather…unique," Thatcher replied uncomfortably. "He's only dangerous when-" He stopped. How had that slipped out? He'd already said more than enough, but now Korval was looking at him expectantly.

"-when he's…um, awake," he finished lamely.

Korval nodded. "I see. By the way, are you enjoying that werewolf book I lent you?"

"Uh-"

"What did you think about Chapter twenty-three?" Korval continued.

Thatcher's mind went momentarily blank. _He_ hadn't read the book; how the hell should he know about Chapter twenty-three? Not wanting to admit that he'd lent Korval's book to someone else, and especially not wanting to reveal _who_ he'd lent it to, he said,

"Oh, it was, uh, fascinating. Really neat." He edged closer to the door. "I've, uh, got to be going now…later." He slid out the door.

Korval leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes already adjusted to the room's dark interior. He replayed the conversation with Thatcher in his mind. The book had no Chapter twenty-three, of course. He could hardly believe that the ploy had worked, but it had. Thatcher was lying, and Korval had a pretty good idea as to why.

He pushed back his sheets, along with any lingering vestiges of sleepiness and began to pace the shadowed floor, organizing his thoughts. Something strange was happening on the Enterprise, something that the Powers That Be were apparently working very hard to keep under wraps. From what he could tell, it had all begun not long after the ship had left that planet, Myro something-or-other. Korval wasn't an active member in any gossip circle, but he'd still heard the rumors of an officer getting attacked while planetside. Attacked by some sort of beast no less. And it wasn't long after that Lt. Charlton had mentioned hearing cries and howls from the quarters of some crewmembers. (The Lieutenant hadn't been forthcoming as to the identity of said crewmember.) Now it seemed that Thatcher was in on it too, working strange brig shift and keeping quiet about who -or _what_- he was guarding. Not to mention borrowing a book that was obviously being used for something other than his own personal reading pleasure.

It was all so simple--anyone with half a brain could have figured it out. Then again, in Korval's experience, that didn't apply to many people aboard the Enterprise. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that _he_ knew it. It was really quite a stroke of luck that he'd been assigned to bunk with Thatcher. No, not luck--fate. Fate had clearly given him this task and he damn sure wasn't going to ignore it.

Korval couldn't help but smile. For decades, hell, _centuries_ the Korval family had been ridiculed for, as others called it, their "superstitions" and "ignorant ravings." Well, those days would soon be over. Eli Korval would be hailed as the one who saved an entire starship from an unspeakable menace.

But…he still couldn't dismiss the one thing that had been troubling him. Although he was quite ready for the challenge, eager for it really, by all rights it shouldn't be his to deal with. The problem should have been eliminated long ago, but yet here it was--alive, kicking, and right in Korval's lap. Why hadn't it been immediately destroyed? Didn't they realize the danger? Korval bit his lip in anger and frustration. The fools! Their egos and stupidity were putting the entire ship at risk. Well, they'd understand their error soon enough, but not before Korval emerged as the hero and they were left to mourn their mistakes. Then again, perhaps the monster had them inescapably entwined in some spell, in which case they'd be unspeakably grateful to Korval for releasing them.

That raised another question; exactly who was involved? The captain, certainly, and Dr. McCoy no doubt. Probably that half-breed First Officer was in on it too. Korval couldn't hold back a sneer at the thought. Aliens should never have been allowed to join StarFleet in the first place, much less advance to second in command of a starship. It was disgusting…but neither here nor there. Korval knew that he was just getting himself distracted because he didn't want to contemplate the truth---that chances were better than good that every single one of the senior officers was fully aware of the situation, and yet had done _nothing _about it. No longer, Korval vowed. He had no idea how he would execute his plan, but he wasn't worried. Fate was on his side, and it wouldn't be long before the universe bent itself to his will. Everything he needed would be provided, as long as he remained patient. It was only a matter of time…

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'_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!'_

Kirk groaned and sat up. It never failed-- it seemed that whenever he tried to go to sleep for the night, it wasn't fifteen minutes before he was woken up by something. And yet he was never disturbed during the hours of paperwork that he often had to plow through. Go figure.

With a sigh of resignation, he answered.

"Kirk here."

"Lieutenant Uhura here, Captain. Sir, an Admiral Tarkow is waiting to speak with you about the negations on Kaz." The crew had long since given up stumbling over the planet's name and had instead resorted to something shorter.

"Put him on screen." Kirk hastily smoothed out his uniform and a moment later, the Admiral appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Jim. It's been awhile."

"Not since the Academy." Kirk had been in a few of Tarkow's classes, all of which he'd found abysmally boring. But, he didn't think this was the time to bring that up. "So, Ted, what did you want to talk with me about?"

"It's about K'z'tyl. I just want to emphasize the importance of these negotiations. It's very vital that we get that Starbase built. The planet locals, 'Tyls' I believe they're called, haven't opened fire outright, but their threats are getting more and more serious. Needless to say, we very much desire their friendship, or at the least, their cooperation."

Kirk nodded. He already knew this; why was Tarkow reiterating it?

"So," he continued, "I want you to agree with any demands they make, to a reasonable degree of course. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Yes, sir." Was it just Kirk's imagination, or were Tarkow's eyes hosting a tiny glint of…mischief? No, it was probably just cataracts.

Tarkow smiled. "Good. Because the Ambassador is waiting to talk with you on the other line."

"What?" Kirk sputtered. "Right _now_?"

"Well, it'll take a few moments to connect the call, but yes, essentially. The Ambassador's name is-" he glanced down at something on his desk, "-T-K-K-Z, something that looks like half a squiggle, S-Q-H."

"How am I supposed to pronounce _that_?"

Tarkow shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. Good luck with that. He'll be on in just a minute. I'll stay on this channel. You can contact me when you're done. Bye." And with that, the screen went dark.

For about fifteen seconds, Kirk just sat there, stupefied. What was Tarkow's problem? He'd never done anything to deserve…wait a minute. He groaned as the memory resurfaced. It had been his last year at the Academy, third quarter. He'd been…displeased with the grade Tarkow had given him, so he'd perpetrated a little…retaliation. Nothing harmful, but it had probably caused Tarkow more than a little inconvenience. Damn. He'd always assumed the Admiral had never figured out who was behind it. Apparently, that wasn't the case and now Tarkow was getting his payback. Great. Just great.

When the Tyl Ambassador finally appeared on the screen, Kirk nearly fell off his seat in surprise. Normally he prided himself on being able to keep a calm demeanor when facing a particularly odd alien race, but usually he had _some_ kind of forewarning. The suddenness of the meeting didn't help matters either. So it was, that when the Tyl Ambassador's image came up on the screen, large, purple-hued and _totally eyeless_, he was taken by surprise. He regained his composure as quickly as he could.

"Mr. Ambassador, I presume?"

"_That is correct. And you are Captain James Kirk?"_

Oh man, the hits just kept on coming. Telepathic. Wonderful. The big question was--were they mind-readers as well?

"Yes, I'm Captain Kirk," was what he said out loud, while inwardly he thought, as hard as he could,

'_Every single member of my crew has a galloping case Antarian Pus Fever. That's not going to be a problem, is it?' _He waited, but the Ambassador made no visible reaction. A good sign.

"When will you arrive at our planet?"

"Approximately four days, Your Honor. We-"

"_You will, of course, send a telepath to conduct the negotiations."_

It took Kirk a second to process that.

"I'm…sorry, but we don't have-"

"_I have reviewed your crew roster. Your First Officer is a half-Vulcan, is he not?"_

"Yes, but-"

"_He will suffice. You will send him as your negotiator. We will not accept anyone else. Neither will we accept any delays on your part, so please arrive at your scheduled time. Good day." _

The Ambassador's image blipped out.

Fuming, Kirk punched a button and on the console and brought up Admiral Tarkow.

"Admiral, I hate to be blunt, sir, but…what the hell?"

The look on Tarkow's face suggested that he was enjoying this immensely.

"About what, Jim? The telepathy? Or was it the whole no-eyes thing that threw you off?" He chuckled. "It sure gave me a jolt the first time I saw it."

Kirk was trying to stay angry, but it was becoming difficult. He had to admit--Tarkow had got him good, and that earned some respect. Besides, after recalling what had transpired back at the Academy, Kirk knew that he totally deserved it.

"All right, Ted," he conceded. "I had it coming."

The Admiral's grin stretched even wider. "Damn right you did! It took me _weeks_ to clean up that mess you caused. But, I suppose we're even now. So, about the Tyls." He shuffled around a few papers. "We don't have a lot of information available--they haven't exactly been forthcoming about themselves. From what we can figure, they have absolutely no form of eyesight, at least not in the manner that we'd consider. It doesn't slow them down any--they have an extremely impressive armada. Which, by the way, it another reason why we very much want to be on good terms with them. Anyway, we think that they relate to the physical world with a kind of energy recognition--sort of a telepathic echolocation, I guess you could say. As for interacting with other life forms, they seem to be able to recognize people by telepathic means only. They don't read minds, per se, but they can identify a person's consciousness. So, you could show up stark naked and they wouldn't think anything was out of the ordinary as long as it was still your mind. Understand?"

"I think so, sir. Did the Ambassador mention anything to you about how he will only negotiate with a telepath?"

"Yes, he did. However, he said that he would willingly converse with Commander Spock, and I see no problem with that. He's an excellent negotiator from what I hear."

Kirk couldn't help but fidget a little. How was he going to explain his way out of this? He was still resolute in his decision not to inform StarFleet of Spock's…problem. It was just too risky; he was going to stick with the idea of it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Tarkow apparently took Kirk's silence as ascension because he said,

"Very well then. It sounds like everything is in order. I'll leave the details up to you. Good luck."

He was gone.

Kirk slumped over and put his head in his hands. Oh yes, everything was in _perfect _order…

With a sigh of surrender he rose and started to pace, knowing that going back to sleep wasn't an option anymore. Instead, he needed to figure out how to tell Dr. McCoy that he was going to have to beam his most volatile patient down to an alien planet in order to negotiate with a possibly hostile race. Wasn't _that_ something to look forward to.

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'_Wham!'_

Kirk looked up sleepily as McCoy slammed his tray of breakfast down on the table. Okay, Kirk decided, this was his chance to tell him about Spock. Considering all the people in the Mess Hall, maybe McCoy wouldn't blow up at him. He cleared his throat.

"Doctor, I-"

"Jim, you are not going to believe what I got roped into!" McCoy fumed, ripping the crusts off his toast with unnecessary viciousness.

On second thought, maybe this wasn't the best time after all.

"What, Bones?"

"Well, you know that display case they've got set up in the Rec room?"

"The one where people can show off collections and such?"

"That's the one. Well, Ensign Turk's in charge of organizing it this month, but he's in Sickbay with the flu. I was talking to him about it, and next thing I know, _I'm_ stuck with putting the damn thing together!" He glowered down at his glass of orange juice as though it was the source of all his problems. "As if I don't have enough to deal with already, what with Wolfy McHowlerson and _that_ whole mess, but I obviously can't tell _Turk_ that-"

"Bones, if your don't keep it down, you're going to be telling the entire Mess Hall." Admittedly, the room was so crowded and noisy that chance were slim they'd be overhead, much less that anyone would understand the significance of McCoy's words. Still, it was best to be cautious.

McCoy glanced around sheepishly.

"Sorry. But back to what I was saying--I've decided to do a weapons theme for the display case, since Sulu said he'd lend me some of his sword collection. Which brings me to my next point. Do you still have those antique pistols, and if so, can I borrow some?"

"Sure. I've also got some old bullet casings, if you're interested. When do you want them?"

"Yesterday, preferably. I need to have them set up by tonight."

"Do you want to stop by my quarters during lunch and pick them up?"

"Works for me," McCoy said. "Oh, by the way," -he gestured at the yogurt on Kirk's tray- "I must say that I'm proud of you, Jim. Very healthy. I approve."

Kirk shrugged and took a bite, all the while subtly maneuvering the yogurt container a little further away so that the doctor wouldn't see the mass amounts of chocolate chips he'd mixed in with it.

"Wait a minute," McCoy said, a bit of suspicion creeping into his tone. "Are you…_chewing_ yogurt?"

Kirk swallowed abruptly and managed not to wince as several whole chocolate chips slid their way down his throat.

Sitting directly behind Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Korval kept his head down and his eyes trained on his breakfast as he listened to their conversation. He couldn't help but grin a little. Once again, Fate was playing directly into his hands.

**TBC**

Well? What do you think?

The theme of this chapter was "sound effects", by the way, in case you didn't notice how I started off each new section change with a sound.

Another note: The real Ted Tarkow is not boring at all, and the character of the Admiral is based off him only by name. Ted Tarkow is pretty much one of the coolest people ever.


End file.
